


Patience

by P_Dunton



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brotherly Love, F/M, Post-Episode: s04e03 The Final Problem, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-05-28 22:10:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 66,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15058883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/P_Dunton/pseuds/P_Dunton
Summary: Sometimes it feels like there is no point to go on. So when Molly Hooper finally decides she is not interested in this life of hers anymore, she just needs to wait for a bit before the moment is right to take her leave. (Un)fortunately for her things start to take unpredictable turn.





	1. So... How have you been?

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic. No beta so far and English is not my mother tongue, so all mistakes are mine, sorry about it.  
> I own nothing and do it for fun and stress relieve.

**Chapter 1.**

 

"So... How have you been?" Mary asked with this usual smile of hers that Molly has been missing so much lately.

"For someone living only in my head you are asking questions that require too much time to answer" Molly smirked sadly. "Let’s just pretend you know everything perfectly well already... Let’s also pretend that you have a glass of this perfect Shiraz so that I don’t drink alone."

Mary smiled tenderly at her.

"Is it that bad?"

"Well... It is not actually bad. It is just... endless. I am always alone, I have no friends outside this crazy little circle that keeps moving around Baker Street, and this circle includes me only because of the fact that they all feel... sorry for me... And don’t even try to tell me they don’t. I can see it in their eyes every single time I catch them looking at me. And, well, yes, John also requires help with Rosie quite often nowadays. And this entire situation just seems to be… endless. I can see no way it could stop and change. And as far as I remember it has been more or less the same since the time Sherlock appeared in my morgue with this riding crop of his... I should have started avoiding him back then. Maybe then I wouldn’t end up like that."

"I see..."

"Of course you do… And the worse part of all this is that Sherlock... Well he was trying to... sort of care for me after this phone call... He even tried to bring me coffee once... But I asked him not to do it anymore and he has never tried again since then."

"But why?!"

"I just don’t want everybody to feel pity for me anymore. I don’t want _him_ to feel sorry for me anymore. He doesn’t love me. He sort of cares for me, but, really, I am not even his friend, no matter what he says about it. Friends can’t be so awkward and tense around each other. To tell you the truth, if he were my friend he would just let me be without him, would leave me alone, knowing that he really has nothing to offer me. But in that case he would need to find another pathologist and it would be just too much to bother. So... He is around pretending that he cares for the things I say or for my opinion on something. And I really wish he didn’t. But he is also going through a lot nowadays, as far as I know, so I just can’t tell him to bugger off. And, God, Mary, I am so tired… My therapist tells me I need to find some new interests in my life, just for me, to make some friends on my own, outside Baker Street, you know… Get my own life, find some new man someday. But I just don’t want to. I am tired of all this… And I am just not interested in… anything anymore. I just want to rest. Like… forever."

"Molly… What are you planning to do?"

"Well, I’m done with it and I am planning to stop it."

"Ok…"

Molly smirked again.

"Good thing you are not real. Real Mary would try to stop me."

"You are perfectly right, I am not her… And I am always on your side, whatever you decide. So… Today?"

"No, not today. I have to make sure John is in town for at least several days to have Rosie with him. I wouldn’t do it with baby around. And I’m also planning to buy the best bottle of champagne I can afford to have all these pills with."

"You are actually making death seem more alluring, honey. Pills then?"

"Yes, I don’t want to be in pain. And I am a doctor, after all. I know how to make things right."

"And how much longer are you going to… stay around?"

"Oh, a week, I think."

"Well... Okay, sweetheart. As you wish…"

"Thank you… And, Mary?"

"Yes, darling?"

"I really hope I’ll see you soon."

She closed her eyes and when she opened them Mary was already gone. Molly signed heavily and refilled her wine glass.

***

Feelings were painful. It’s not that he hadn’t felt anything before he met his sister, but now everything was just… overwhelming. He always managed to stay put during the day, keeping himself busy with cases and solving the current problems his family was facing. His parents were furious with Mycroft nowadays and for the first time in his life Sherlock felt sorry for his brother.

He was looking at everything from completely different angle now. He saw Mycroft trying to get bullet for John in Sherrinford, he saw how much his brother actually cared for him and, having met Eurus, Sherlock actually could not blame Mycroft for the decisions he made. Mycroft, it seemed, understood Sherlock better than anyone. And every day, when the night fell and John took Rosie (they were both now living in 221b with Sherlock) to their room to sleep, Sherlock was going through all his former interactions with his elder brother in his Mind Palace. Feelings were painful, but they let Sherlock understand everything so much better now. He remembered every single time Mycroft took him out from the deepest drug holes Sherlock put himself into, remembered every time his brother came by to make some awfully annoying conversations just to, as Sherlock now understood, make sure he was fine.

“Caring is not an advantage” he used to tell him. And for Mycroft, who cared for his younger brother so much, it definitely wasn’t. Only now has Sherlock understood that two week spots his elder brother had were Sherlock himself and their old parents. And seeing Mycroft being torn apart by the way their mother and father were dealing with him now suddenly made Sherlock want to defend his brother. Mycroft seemed touched (in his own way) and surprised when Sherlock stood up for him in front of their mother’s furry the day she was told about Eurus.

Things between them started to change after Sherrinford. Feelings were painful, but in case of Mycroft pain came with the newfound bliss of brotherly love. Brotherly love and appreciation.

Eurus was a bit better now. At least she came back from her catatonic condition and was responding to him. He has never played violin so much. When Eurus met him in Sherrinford for the first time she ordered him to play. She wanted to hear _him_. And now this was the only way they communicated. Feelings were painful. And condition of his sister, despite all her progresses, terrified him.

There were also John and Rosie. John was still struggling with the loss of his wife, but now, after Sherrinford, Sherlock, to his own surprise, could say that his best friend forgave him completely. John was still talking to Mary from time to time but much lesser now and Sherlock knew that someday his best friend would be able to move on with his life. The only thing that bothered him was that John seemed to still be spending too little time with his daughter. He was always happy to go for a case or just leave Rosie with Molly or Mrs. Hudson when he had an opportunity. It seemed that fatherhood bothered him. Sherlock was concerned about it but decided against pushing John into anything. He started to spend more time with Rosie himself, and, oh Gog, he adored her.

He enjoyed spending time with his Goddaughter and was fascinated by all the progresses she made. Rosie was bright, smart and beautiful. She reminded Sherlock of Mary so much, but, to his own surprise, it didn’t upset him. He sort of believed in immortality now, seeing Mary looking at him through the smiling eyes of her little daughter. He remembered too well the moment Rosie stood up on her wobbly legs and made her first step. He had to bite his cheek from the inside to suppress the urge to cry. Molly was supporting her then and the little girl was moving from one of her Godparents to another. Molly was crying happily back then, and it was the only time Sherlock saw her happy after the events of Sherrinford. Feelings were painful and seeing Molly unhappy hurt badly.

However, he didn’t know what to do about it. He remembered her tears when he was making this awful phone call and the second time he said “I love you”. Something he couldn’t really understand happened back then, something shifted inside him, something changed. But he was too new with emotions to understand what it was. After Sherrinford he spent several days at John’s taking care of him and Rosie and came to Molly only one week after their drastic phone conversation. He knew, of course, that Molly was fine and in one piece and he had more important things to do. Their talk could wait. Or so he told himself. It appeared that Mycroft disagreed with his point of view, because when Sherlock finally came to Barts to speak to Molly she asked him not to bother with it. Mycroft paid her a visit next day they got to London from Sherrinford and explained her everything. Molly asked Sherlock if he was fine and managed a forced smile when he told her about his own condition. She even found some soothing words for him, as she always did when he was in need. But things became different.

He tried to show her he cares for her for a while. He even brought her coffee once only to see some new expression crossing her face, the one he hasn’t seen before. She seemed… repulsed. She asked him not to do it anymore before gathering her things and walking away from the morgue. He wanted to ask her for a body to see for his ongoing case, but she sent one of her colleagues to help him. Of course this colleague of hers turned out to be a complete moron and Sherlock had to wait for Molly’s next shift to complete the case.

She wasn’t stammering when he was around anymore. It was a good thing because her stammer always used to annoy him, but he didn’t feel good about it now for some reason. She wasn’t stammering anymore but she wasn’t also smiling around him anymore. Her cheerfulness used to also annoy him from time to time, but now, when it was gone, he felt somehow… off… He tried to discuss Molly’s case with John once, but John just told him to let Molly be for some time. And Sherlock was once again annoyed.

Two months passed since Sherrinford and he missed… something. Molly moved to some other place and, to Sherlock’s surprise, asked Mycroft to help her install new security system to protect her doors. She wanted to feel safe, but now Sherlock could not pick the lock to her flat. First time he tried, she opened the door, looking exhausted in her striped top and cotton sleeping pants and asked him to let her sleep. She told him that she would help him the next day and didn’t let him enter her flat. And this way he was deprived of one of his favorite boltholes. Sherlock was furious with her. He tried not to let it show, but when he made it to the morgue next day he deduced her painfully mentioning something about how exhausted she looked, and how much wine she’d been drinking lately. He regretted it immediately, he even apologized. He saw her suppressing tears and managing to do just that. She showed him the body he was looking for and didn’t say a word to him that day. They came to terms with everything the next day, but there still was something off with Molly, something he didn’t understand. He missed her smiles and the way she was always good to him. Not long ago he started to notice his need to touch her, to rest his palm on her shoulder, to remove a strand of hair from her face. And he wanted her to smile. But she didn’t, and now he was trying his best not to think about it. Feelings were painful and he had no idea what he felt towards Molly Hooper. And because of that Molly annoyed him greatly. He felt like he lost something and he was extremely angry with Molly to make everything so difficult. However, he tried to never let it show. He tried to be polite… He tried. Feelings were painful and still too hard to understand.

Loud orgasmic moan broke the silence of the room they were sharing with John that morning. Sherlock watched his friend looking at him with one raised brow. The Woman. He still remembered their time in Karachi. He felt so out of control back then. The Woman was perfect: smart, sensual, witty in her own way, beautiful, full of sex and extremely dangerous. Irene Adler was the perfect combination of everything.

Before the text came Sherlock felt once again really annoyed. Yesterday he came to the morgue to check some of his samples. Molly was quiet and paid him almost no attention. He tried to deduce something about her, but, except for the bottle of Shiraz she had the previous day, everything else was hidden from him. It made him angry and he left, forgetting his samples. Maybe he needed a distraction now. And for some reason, for the first time after Karachi Sherlock thought that Irene would be the best way to distract himself from the unsolvable case of Molly Hooper.

“You know where to find me” he wrote before pressing “send”.


	2. Have patience, girl!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly is facing some problems with implementing her plan. Sherlock is trying to understand what is going on with him choosing the worst possible way to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all I would like to say "thank you" to my wonderful beta comeaftermejackrobinson for her patience with me and my writing and ideas of how to structure this chapter. It means so much to me! Thank you!  
> Originally this chapter was much longer but comeaftermejackrobinson advised me to split it into several parts. That means you'll get some updates in the next couple of days.
> 
> I still own nothing and English is still not my native language. So, enjoy.

**Chapter 2.** **  
**  
“Molly, um… Hi! How are you?” John’s voice in her phone sounded a bit too cheerful, that’s how she knew he was going to ask her to babysit Rosie… again.

  
She didn’t mind, actually - after all, she loved Rosie very much. But she was not going to stay around for much longer, and she wanted John to have his daughter for at least four days in a row so that Rosie could get used to him again. He had been away far too often lately. Rosie had started teething, and it seemed John just couldn’t deal with it. Even Molly was having hard times with their girl and, God help her, she was patient.   
It was, of course, a lot easier for her when Sherlock could also babysit Rosamund.

 

Molly didn’t want to be around the girl for several days so Rosie could forget her - God bless toddler’s memory. Then Molly could just go away and never come back. Actually, today was the third day in a row that the little one was with her father. Molly had just come back home with a very expensive bottle of champagne when her phone rang.

  
“Oh, hello, John. I’m fine, thanks, how are you?” She managed to sound pleased by the fact she was hearing his voice.

  
“Great… Great… Listen, I know you had Rosie not so long ago, but could you… Could you please have her for a couple of days again?”

  
“Um… Is something wrong? Where will you be going?”

  
“Oh… It’s Harry again… She is having some problems with her girlfriend… and alcohol… You know how it usually is with her. You’ve met, after all.”

  
Oh, of course they had met. John’s sister went to visit him just after Mary’s death and stayed for a week. Molly was visiting John every day back then, and on the third day of Harry’s stay she packed Rosie’s clothes, bottles and nappies, took the crying girl with her and left the flat. John and Harry had been both too drunk to stop her, even if they had wanted to. 

 

Molly didn’t believe John now. After he came back to his senses, John felt repulsed by his sister and himself. Harry got back together with her girlfriend and quit drinking for some time, and brother and sister stopped seeing each other so often. John would now probably go and rent a room in some hotel and stay there for a couple of days. Molly knew he wouldn’t drink, he wouldn’t have sex with anybody, he would just be away from his daughter, God damn him. 

 

She would never understand it: this urge to be alone when there were so many people you could be with, who would honestly be happy to have you around. She sometimes hated John because she didn’t have the same option herself.

  
“Uhm… I had some plans for today. Could you leave Rosie with Mrs. Hudson or Sherlock?”   
“Mrs. Hudson is ill at the moment and I don’t want to leave Rosie with her. She is coughing rather badly…”

  
“Oh, God, I should give her a call… What about Sherlock?”

  
“Rosie is with him at the moment. But he might not be available for the next couple of days,”  for some reason John sounded guilty when he told her that. “So, um, Molly, please? I will owe you one…”

  
_ Of course you will _ she thought bitterly.

  
“Fine… Will you be dropping by anytime soon?” She had just taken two days off to have time to go away peacefully. Now it would all go to waste. 

“Um… I have to leave now. Can you just pick Rosie from Baker Street?”

  
“John, for God’s sake!”

  
“Molly, I know, I know, I owe you! Sorry, my train leaves now, thank you so much!”

  
He didn’t wait for her answer. The line went dead and Molly signed heavily. _Dammit, John!_ She put the champagne away in the fridge and headed for the tube.  
 _Patience, Molly. Have patience, girl_! she thought to herself.  
  
                                                                                                             ***

 

“Sherlock, John called and asked me to pick up Rosie! I was just…”  

 

He saw her stopping dead at the sight in front of her eyes.

  
For a single moment he was pleased to see her finally responding. She went pale and he noticed the way she bit her lip to stop the flow of emotions from hitting her face. Then her expression became completely blank. The final glimpse of light she had in her eyes died out and she raised her head a bit to look him in the eyes.

  
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interfere,”  she said.

  
Her voice sounded mechanical now.

  
“Oh, darling, so nice to see you! You are not interfering with anything… yet,”  Irene was smiling at Molly, examining her from head to toes.

  
“Where is Rosie?” Molly managed to ask, trying not to look at Irene’s naked curves.

  
At that very moment, Sherlock regretted replying to Irene’s message. This woman had a talent to turn up in the most unexpected and inconvenient moment. For a second he felt a shot of panic because he didn’t understand what was going on in Molly’s mind. She seemed calm now, and she looked at him with so much hate in her eyes that he felt he would rather die than stay under her gaze for much longer.

  
“Rosie is sleeping. She is upstairs” he tried his best to sound calm.

  
“I’ll wake her.”

 

He heard her steps hitting the stair and then the sound of Rosie whining. Irene was smirking at him slyly. Two minutes later Molly was back downstairs with Rosie in her arms and the nappy bag on her shoulder. She was trying to make the girl face away from the room where a naked Irene was now sitting lazily on the sofa.

  
“Bye, Sherlock,” Molly blurted heading out of the flat.

  
“Molly,”  he tried to stop her, but after a second he heard the door slamming shut.   
  


Sherlock didn’t understand what was going on with him. He couldn’t understand his feelings, but he felt lost and hurt.   
  


”It seems we scared her away,” Irene whispered, hugging him from behind. “You seem so tense, Mr. Holmes. Let me take care of you.”

  
He turned around and faced her, completely lost in the overwhelming flow of emotions racing through him. He didn’t want this woman now, but she claimed his lips with hers and he was lost again. He needed this release and Irene responded so well to his touches. He pushed her towards the door , shutting it from the inside with her body. She wrapped her legs around him, kissing and licking him, biting his lips and shoulders and moaning loudly. He was so hard it hurt, and when he touched Irene he felt that she was soaking wet.  He thrusted into her with a groan, making her cry out his name. It somehow helped him silent his panic after seeing the light fading from Molly’s eyes. He thrusted and thrusted, feeling his orgasm building up fast and sensing his brain shutting out completely. At least, with his final groan and Irene’s final cry, he spilled himself inside her.    
  


Once it was over, they caught their breath, and Irene led him to his bedroom. He felt exhausted when she wrapped her body around his. 

 

She drifted to sleep quickly but he just kept lying facing the ceiling, Molly’s pale face standing before his eyes.


	3. How could it be worse?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the comeaftermejackrobinson for beta-reading this text!

**Chapter 3.**

 

The only thing that kept her sane was a bubbling Rosie in her arms. The girl seemed cheerful and Molly was grateful for that. Bloody John! Now the guilt she heard in his voice during the phone call made complete sense. How little should she matter if John could not bother himself to bring Rosie to Molly’s  instead of making her see this bloody woman with Sherlock. 

 

She knew who she was. When Mary was still alive and they used to go out together from time to time, Molly told her the story of that awful Christmas party when Sherlock humiliated her in front of everybody first and then later that night he identified the woman in the morgue by… not her face. Mary told Molly what she had heard from John then, the story about  _ The Woman. _

 

Irene Adler. 

 

According to John, she was fascinating to Sherlock.  _ The Woman _ , that’s what Sherlock called her. It seemed that this chapter had not been closed in his life yet. Molly tried to silence the sudden pain in her chest thinking about it gave her. It felt like a punch. _Bloody hell…_

  
Suddenly, she realized she was couple of blocks away from Baker Street now. In fact, she was near her favorite coffee shop, not far from Paddington Street Gardens. She hadn’t visited it in a while, but during those first weeks after Mary’s death she went there quite often with Rosie. They had a wonderful playroom for kids there, and even as a newborn Rosie had seemed to like it. She never cried when they were there. Without thinking, Molly pushed the door open and entered the coffee shop.

  
It was as cozy as she remembered it. The walls were painted with warm colors and decorated with pictures of Paddington the bear. She suddenly smiled looking at Rosie who was now squealing happily in her arms. All tables were low and surrounded by soft carpets so that adults could eat while their children crawled around playing with toys spread around the room. To keep everything clean, everyone had to take their shoes off. The area resembled a cozy private flat with panoramic windows and a nice terrace where you could sit if the weather was nice. Molly chose to stay inside. She put Rosie down on the carpet and watched as the girl took one of the toys in her tiny hands. Seeing Rosie putting the toy into her mouth, Molly chose to take it from the girl, replacing it with Rosie’s own toy that was suitable for chewing.

  
The unbearable feelings in her chest were slowly being replaced by familiar emptiness. Molly was staring at the wall in front of her, her latte forgotten. Today was the day she realized her idea of ending her miserable life was the best thing that had ever come to her mind. 

 

She had been there already. When her father died of cancer all those years ago, she had been heartbroken. She’d felt completely destroyed and couldn’t find a reason to live. But she was much younger back then, and she had been raised in a rather religious family, so she believed in God and in  suicide being a one-way ticket to hell. She was also afraid of dying. That is why she didn’t do it all those years ago. 

 

Her father had wanted her to graduate, so she did. She was brilliant, in fact. Back then she managed to beat her depression and her life got better. She was hired at Barts, she even started to make some friends who were not repulsed by her occupation. 

 

And then Sherlock Holmes entered her morgue holding his riding crop. 

 

She remembered that moment, all those years ago, when she still had a choice, when she could be offended by his attitude and harsh deductions (and oh, she had been on the receiving end of his mood swings from the very beginning). But for some reason she chose not to care. The rest was history now, a story partly written and kept on John Watson’s website. She was also mentioned there. She read those entries so many times during the past decade: the “black, two sugars” entry, the “Jim from IT” entry (thankfully John didn’t mention the Jim turned out to be Moriarty afterwards). And also the entry about The Woman, where Molly was mentioned as someone who “fell under Sherlock’s cruelness and made him apologize for the first time in his life”. 

 

And that was all; everything else was just not interesting to the reader, no matter how much she helped Sherlock, no matter how important her work had been to solve all those  cases during the past ten years. She was plain and,after all, she didn’t count despite what Sherlock had told her to get what he wanted from her. She was all alone now, her former friends got married and she was just not a welcome presence in their lives anymore. She was alone and she just couldn’t take part in all those family conversations about kids, choosing this kindergarten or this  school over other kindergartens and schools, and all those cute family hobbies all her friends now shared with their spouses. To everybody else, she counted only when it was convenient. And now there was no father to expect her to graduate, no God to look after her (all those autopsies of children during her years of work didn’t leave God any chance to exist in her mind). She now knew the way to go away without pain, and as long as no one seemed to care much about her... She was just too lonely to wake up in her own personal hell every day. Molly now saw death as the best way out. 

 

She was completely fine with not existing anymore, because existing just hurt too badly.

  
There was just one thing she sincerely hoped for. Maybe, just maybe... She had spent too many years going to church with her father  so she still had some hope that there was something good in the afterlife. And now she sincerely hoped she could see Mary beyond the threshold. 

 

The moment she thought about Mary, Molly turned her head to Rosie again. 

That was the momentall panoramic windows in the coffee shop flew to pieces. 

 

Something had exploded near the coffee shop’s entrance.


	4. Too much for one day!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes help comes from somewhere you did not expect it to come.
> 
> Molly finds herself in the very center of some great mess. Sherlock is finding himself alone in his flat. Mycroft steps in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you, my dear comeaftermejackrobinson for beta-reading this text!
> 
> Just for your information, I have also started the blog on tumblr. You'll find me there as polinaduntonwrites. It will be my blog for stress release, so I'll both post my fics updates there and just write about life, universe and everything. 
> 
> So, enjoy!

**Chapter 4.**

 

It took her several minutes to come back to her senses. She couldn’t understand what was going on. She heard people’s cries of helps and moans of pain all around her.

  
_ ROSIE! _  was her first thought.

  
“ROSIE!” she cried, turning to the spot where the girl had been crawling near her several minutes ago.

  
She saw Rosamund. She was crying her lungs out, but she was in one piece. Molly rushed to the child’s side and grabbed her. She examined Rosie quickly and saw no injuries. So she jumped to her feet, pressed the girl to her chest and rushed out of the building. While still running, she retrieved her mobile out of her pocket.

  
“Molly, hey, what’s up?” Greg Lestrade sounded cheerful, as always.

  
“GREG! HELP! Explosion! I… Rosie… Paddington…”

  
“Molly, Molly, calm down! Where are you?!” She heard Greg jumping up from wherever he was sitting and starting to move “You need to calm down now and tell me what’s happening!”

  
Finally, she was able to get herself together.

  
There has been an explosion, not far from Paddington Street Gardens.” Molly gave Greg and address.

  
“Are you alone there?”

  
“Rosie is with me, she’s safe, at least she’s not physically injured…”

  
“We were just informed of what happened. I’m on my way, Molls!”

  
She didn’t know how much time had passed while she was standing in the street, holding Rosie to herself. The baby had just started to calm down. After she ended the phone call with Greg, she noticed that she had left Rosie’s jacket in the coffee shop. Molly had to take off her own jumper to wrap it around the girl, so she was now standing in only her t-shirt.

  
“Molly!” Gregory Lestrade’s strong hand closed around her.  “God, you are freezing! You need help!”

  
“I’m fine, check Rosie first! I’m fine”  she mumbled.

  
“Molly, you are freezing and bleeding, give Rosie to me, I’ll take care of her. We need to take you to the doctor. Where’s John? Where are your shoes?” 

  
Molly had only just noticed that she was standing barefoot on the pavement. Her shoes were in the coffee shop.   
“He left today… Went to his sister’s, he said. He asked me to babysit Rosie for a couple of days…”  Molly let Greg drag her to an ambulance that stood not far from them.

  
“Of course he did, bloody bastard!” Molly could see Lestrade was furious but she couldn’t care less at the moment.

  
She remembered Greg saying she was bleeding and suddenly felt the pain in her left hand. The shock was wearing off, and the pain and the cold began to get to her. Her left hand was covered in blood and Molly could see several shards of grass inside the wounds. Her neck was also in pain. Lestrade called for a doctor and some young intern ( _ just started work _ Molly thought) was by her side in a second.

  
There were plenty of victims, several people killed, some of them lost feet or hands. Molly could consider herself lucky – she only had several stitches on her arm and neck.

  
“Can’t get to John or Sherlock!” Lestrade cursed under his breath  “How is she?” he asked the intern who was just finishing the final stitches on Molly’s forearm.

  
“I’ll live, Greg. How is Rosie?”

  
“She seems to be fine for now but the doctor is checking her ears at the mo... They are concerned about the fact that the explosion was sort of... too loud... She is a baby and it could mess with her hearing... Good heavens, Molls... Are you sure you are fine?”

  
Greg looked very concerned at this moment, but Molly couldn’t help but smirk. Was she fine? In the morning she was preparing to commit suicide and now she had just survived something that looked like a terrorist attack. And the only person she was responsible for at the time had suffered. 

 

No, she wasn’t fine and, if she was completely honest with herself, she would give everything to be dead now, lying on the floor of that blasted coffee shop if it meant she could save at least some of those other people’s life. All those victims would not make it back home to their families at the end of the day...She had no one to come back home to. Even Toby, her cat, had passed away not long before that bloody phone call Sherlock made from Sherrinford. 

 

Yes, she would be completely fine with lying dead there.   
  
She suddenly realized that Greg was still waiting for her to answer. She forced a smile and said:   
  
“My hand hurts, my neck hurts even worse, but I am alive. So yes, yes, it’s all right , I’m just worried about Rosie.”

  
“We can go check on her together,”  Greg nodded to the intern who had just finished patching Molly up.

  
Molly thanked the young man, and together with Greg they walked to the other ambulance where Rosie was being checked. Upon seeing Molly, the girl started to cry and reached for the woman. The doctors had to let Molly come closer so that she could soothe the baby. Rosie grabbed the collar of Molly’s shirt and pressed herself to her godmother’s chest.   
  
“Hush, darling, everything is going to be fine now, I promise,”  Molly cooed, fighting the tears in her eyes and the lump in her throat.   
  


Rosie finally saw Lestrade, who stood not far from them. Molly had already noticed before that the inspector had some magical influence on every child that was near him. Maybe it was about all those years in the NSY soothing the relatives of the victims, maybe it was the fact that Lestrade was the eldest child in his own family, but he just knew how to be around little ones to make them relax and smile. Rosie reached for the man and Molly handed the girl to him.   
  
“Just wait outside for a bit,”  Greg mouthed to Molly, and she hurried to leave the ambulance without Rosie seeing her.

  
She was standing on the pavement near the coffee shop, eyeing the dreadful scene before her. She had already been given some shoes and a blanket to wrap around herself, but she still felt cold. It wasn’t the cold from the outside, she was freezing from the inside.   
  
She knew that if John came back sooner than expected now, she’d have to cancel her days off to help in the morgue. Maybe this whole situation would make John stay with his daughter for several days in a row and Molly would be able to finally complete her plan. Thinking about it, she turned her head to the end of the street and noticed something coming at a very high speed, aiming for the crowd that was gathered around the coffee shop. It took her two more seconds to realize that it was a car racing towards the people.  

 

It was not going to stop. 

 

A second later she saw the driver’s face. She wouldn’t be able to  remember it too well later, but she caught the expression on his face: fierce and crazy. Yes, he looked completely, utterly crazy, she could see it in his eyes. The driver met her gaze and in a glimpse of a second turned the wheel and sent the car in her direction. That was when the people not far from her noticed the car, too. She was standing a bit outside from the crowd so as soon as the people started to run away from their spots upon noticing the danger approaching them, she was left standing alone. It all happened very fast, and she had only time to think that it would all  finally end. To hell with the pills, this was definitely the easiest way out- although it would be bit more painful, of course. But really, she couldn’t care less at the moment. The car was fast approaching and she closed her eyes waiting for the impact when she heard someone crying out her name.   
  
“MISS HOOPER!”  she heard, one second before she was knocked off her feet.

  
It wasn’t the car that made her fly off a couple of feet away, though. The car flew past her and crashed into a lamppost nearby. Molly heard the sound of shooting and when she managed to pull herself back together it was all over: the driver had been shot.   
  
_ It’s all too much for one day _ \- she thought, trying to understand what had saved her from the impending doom. She turned around and looked behind herself. She was shocked to see Mycroft Holmes trying to sit back up on the ground near her. His (usually) perfectly pressed suit was crumpled now, tie overthrown. Molly was so surprised to see him that she forgot how to speak.   
  
“Molly!”  

 

It was Greg running in her direction.  

 

“God! Are you alright?”

  
“You have already asked me that today.”  she managed to say through the greeted teeth.

  
At this very moment, Greg saw Mycroft sitting near Molly.   
  
“Mycroft... What on Earth are you doing here?! Are you all right?”

  
“I am completely fine, thank you, Detective Inspector,” even sitting on the ground, Mycroft didn’t forget  his manners. “It would be really nice if you helped Miss Hooper. It seems her wounds require tending once again.”

  
“Sure, sure, of course. Let me help you, Molly”  once again, Greg found himself dragging her to the ambulance. She had no energy to resist.

  
People were being evacuated from the area, the paramedics helping those who could not yet been taken to hospital. Molly’s new stitches hurt quite badly, but she was alive... again.   
  
“Miss Hooper,”  she heard Mycroft’s voice.. Molly turned to him and noticed an uncommon expressions of concern crossing his face.  “I am sorry to ask, but do you remembered how this... whole thing happened?”

  
“If you mean the car, I just saw it rushing down the street and then I saw the driver looking at me. He... He seemed to turn the car at my direction for some reason... The rest... the rest you know, I suppose.”

  
“I see.”

  
“Molly,”  Greg interfered  “I haven’t been able to get ahold of John yet, but I suppose we could just drop you at Baker Street. It’s not good for you to be alone with Rosie..."   
  


“No!”  

 

To Molly’s surprise, Mycroft and her said the word at the same time.  

She looked at the elder Holmes brother and noticed he was gathering his composure. 

 

  
“Believe me, Detective Inspector, Miss Hooper will be safer at her own home. I’ve placed her flat under surveillance, she should be fine. And… Well, we actually have to make sure that all these events are not somehow connected with my brother’s activities.”   
  
“It’s always something to do with Sherlock, isn’t it?” Greg frowned at Mycroft.   
  
“Not necessarily, but we still have to make sure. After all, this place is far too close to Baker Street, isn’t it? I will be glad to provide a car for Miss Hopper and Miss Watson and send my personal assistant with them.”   
  
“It is not necessary, Mycroft,” Molly interrupted him, “I mean… um… sending your assistant with us .”   
  
“Miss Hooper, I believe that you will be just fine on your own, but I ask you to let Anthea stay with you for some time… For my peace of mind, so to say. If you will be available I would like to talk to you today after I visit my brother. It won’t take too long, I assure you, but if you are tired I can stop by tomorrow, of course.”   
  
Molly understood that she just wouldn’t be left alone today. She felt adrenaline rushing through her veins and thought that she wouldn’t be able to sleep for some time anyway.   
  
“Fine,” she told Mycroft,  “I’ll be at home then, you can stop by.”

  
After seeing that Molly and Rosie got into the car he had for them, Mycroft touched Molly’s shoulder to draw her attention before the door closed.   
  
“Miss Hooper,”  he started, and Molly was shocked for a second that ever self-confident Mycroft Holmes was picking up words  “Can I… Can I be sure that you’ll be fine today while waiting for me?”

  
She eyed him, trying to understand the reason behind  his concern. She hoped that this Holmes brother hadn’t deduced anything about her intentions during her moments of weakness today. Mycroft was obviously waiting for an answer, so Molly managed to smile quite sincerely.   
  
“Of course, Mycroft, I will be fine. And I think Anthea will help me in case I need something, won’t she?”

  
“Do not even doubt it, Miss Hooper, I will see you later.”

  
Molly held a now sleeping Rosie to her chest and sighed.   
  
_ Patience, girl, patience _ ,  she thought to herself,  “ _ not today _ .   
  
                                                                                                           ***

He was all alone when he opened his eyes a couple of hours after he’d managed to fall asleep. Irene was gone and he found a note on his bedside table . The elegant handwriting was hers.   
  
_ Dear Mr. Holmes,  _

 

_ I was quite fascinated by your performance today. Unfortunately, the circumstances made me leave you in a hurry. I, however, hope to see you again quite soon. Until then just let me assure you, you’ll occupy my mind and heart. _ __  
__  
_ Sincerely yours, _ __  
__  
__ IA.   
  
He put the note back on the table, frowning. He was so exhausted that he didn’t even hear her leaving. The Woman, of course, had the ability to move like a cat, but he still didn’t even twitch. Sherlock also wondered which circumstances made her leave so quickly. She seemed so eager to meet him that he didn’t think she could leave him alone after one quick intercourse. However, for some reason, he felt glad she left. It was different between them now. Unlike what had happened in Karachi, there wasn’t  a rush of adrenaline pulling them together anymore. Back then he was in the process of solving the case. Saving her life, his mind had worked brilliantly and his soul had been free of the useless emotions it was filled with now. Sherlock was too emotionally sore, and Irene Adler’s aggressive sexual behavior might have silenced his pain for a moment but it hadn’t brought him any release. Still frowning, Sherlock went out of the bedroom.   
  
“You may want to cover yourself, brother mine.”  

 

No matter how his relationships with Mycroft changed, Sherlock was still annoyed when his brother turned up in his flat unannounced.

  
“You may want to call me before you come next time, Mycroft,”  Sherlock snapped.

  
“Oh, I have called, Sherlock… You were just too occupied to notice, or so it seemed.”

  
Sherlock took his mobile and saw he had 10 missing calls from inspector Lestrade and three missed calls from his brother.   
  
“What’s going on, Mycroft?”  he asked.

  
“There has been a terrorist attack, brother dear, not far from here actually. In the coffee shop by the Paddington Street Gardens, the family one.”

  
“Yes, I know the place, Molly likes to take Rosie there.”

  
“Yes, you are completely right. They were there today.”

  
“Mycroft…”

  
“Oh, they are completely fine now, Sherlock.” Mycroft frowned at him.  “Miss Hooper was slightly injured by the explosion, but her wounds only required  some stitches… Miss Watson is completely fine, maybe just a bit scared, it is hard to say when you have to deal with a child. Miss Hooper carried her out of the coffee shop as quickly as she could.”

  
Sherlock was pacing around the room gathering his clothes already.   
  
“Where are they now?!

  
“I sent them back home and told Anthea to look after them, Sherlock. I ask you to stop pacing, brother mine, we need to talk.”

  
“No time for that now,”  Sherlock was ready to reach for his Belstaff when Mycroft grabbed his arm and stopped him.   

“Sherlock!”  

 

For some reason, Sherlock stopped to listen.

  
“Molly is safe now.”  It was the first time his brother called the pathologist by her first name.  “And if you think that it is a good idea to pay her a visit after your… activities with Miss Adler, I beg you to reconsider. What you need to do now is find John Watson first and tell him about what happened with his daughter. And second, we need to discuss the current situation. It seems to me now that this attack was aimed at someone specific.”

  
“Who?”  Sherlock felt cold of a sudden.  

“According to my intel,they tried to kill Miss Hooper and Miss Watson to get to you.”

  
Sherlock stopped dead on his tracks, suddenly remembering the way Molly looked at him when she saw Irene staying naked in his room. In a second,  he felt it was impossible to breath. He felt his heart biting fiercely against his ribcage. He was sweating and his body was going into shock. Still shaking, he slid to the floor.   
  
“Sherlock,  he heard newfound concern in his brother’s voice.  “Sherlock, you have to take a deep breath now.”

  
“I… I can’t,”  .

 

His voice was hoarse.

  
“You are having panic attack, Sherlock. Take a deep breath. Common, brother mine, inhale.”

  
Sherlock finally managed to do it.   
  
“Well done. Now count to three before exhaling.”

  
He did as he was told. After taking a couple of breaths he felt better. Mycroft still had his hand on Sherlock’s shoulder.   
  
“Do you know who is behind all of this?” Sherlock asked when he could speak again.

  
“That’s something we need to figure out, brother dea Now… About you and Miss Adler…”


	5. You are much needed...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft seems to care, Sherlock seems to worry, Molly seems to not give a damn...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much comeaftermejackrobinson for beta-reading this text and making a huge work editing it. Hope you'll get better soon!

**Chapter 5.**

 

Molly was moving around her kitchen, watching Anthea from the corner of her eye. Mycroft’s PA looked unusually relaxed. She hadn’t touched her phone since they came into the flat and was now flipping through the pages of one of the pathology magazines Molly had received in the mail not so long ago. Molly had known Anthea for years now. She remembered the first time this woman had come to the morgue to deliver a notice from Mycroft to let Molly know Sherlock had been safely brought to the starting point of his mission when he was off  destroying Moriarty’s web. Molly hadn’t asked Mycroft to send her any messages, but Mycroft still did let her know. She had supposed that it was his way of showing gratitude to her.   
  
Anthea hadn’t changed since then. She still looked young and fit, and it seemed that time had no power over the woman. Molly had even envied her a little when she still used to care. Now Anthea’s beauty and image were irrelevant to Molly. She didn’t care about anything anymore.   
  
However, Anthea’s presence in Molly’s flat wasn’t too inconvenient. This woman had always known the way to be around people without annoying them too much. Actually, if Molly hadn’t been so exhausted and depressed, she would have been glad to have Anthea there. But, oh God, she was tired. And she wanted everyone to leave her alone.   
  
Rosie was sleeping peacefully in Molly’s arms. She was in the living room, sitting on the sofa. Molly had tried to put the girl to bed in the nursery at first. She had made a nursery for Rosie instead of placing another guest room in her house when she moved there. Guests didn’t visit her nowadays, so another guest room would have been of no use to her anyway. However, Rosie didn’t want to stay alone in her room, even with the light on t (Molly had bought a night lamp for her recently). So she had to cradle the baby in her arms. Rosie must have been really frightened, so Molly decided to keep her close just in case the girl woke up.   
  
Molly got a text message from Greg. He was asking how she was.   
“I’m OK, everything’s fine, Greg,” she had replied    
She desperately craved a drink, and she hated the fact that she couldn’t have one  with Anthea sitting in the kitchen. She wouldn’t drink too much anyway, she had to look after Rosie after all, but she just wanted one glass of wine, and for some reason she didn’t want to have it in front of Mycroft’s PA. Absentmindedly, she opened the fridge anyway.  There the bottle of wine stood next to the bottle of champagne she had bought that morning.   
  
“You can have a drink it you want” Anthea’s voice sounded somehow sympathetically. “You deserve it after everything you’ve been through today.”   
  
_ To hell with it!  _ Molly thought, getting the wine from the fridge. She eyed the bottle of champagne one more time before she closed the door.   
  
“Do you want some?” she asked Anthea.   
  
“Yes, I do” Anthea smirked. “But a cup of tea will do,if you don’t my my asking, of course” the woman said, and she smiled kindly at her.

  
Tea was ready quickly, and Molly was finally sipping her Shiraz feeling the tension fading away from her body. By the time she had finished her glass, someone knocked on the door. Molly rose from her chair, but Anthea was faster, raising her hand and asking Molly to sit down with just a gesture. The pathology frowned but obeyed anyway.

 

After a minute, Mycroft was in her kitchen.   
  
“Miss Hooper,” he greeted her.   
  
“Call me Molly, Mycroft” she sighed. “After all, I’ve been on a first name basis with you for a while now. And it is Doctor Hooper anyway, so… tea?”   
  
“If you please!”   
  
Anthea looked into the room for a second,  until Mycroft let her know with a od that she was good to go. 

  
“I have assigned a surveillance team to your home I believe  Anthea’s presence won’t be required from now on,” he explained to Molly.   
  
“It was never required to begin with” Molly smiled, but she felt like her smile was too forced.   
She poured Mycroft a cup of tea and retrieved some biscuits from the kitchen cupboard.   
  
“Help yourself,” she said.   
  
“Thank you, Molly,” her name coming out of his mouth sounded surprisingly tender for some reason. “May I ask, how are you?”   
  
She looked at him inquiringly.   
  
“I’m… fine.”   
  
“Are you?”   
  
“What exactly are you asking, Mycroft?” she was starting to sound defensive.   
  
“Why didn’t you jump away today? When you were right in front of that car.”   
  
She froze,her refilled glass of wine half the way to her lips.   
  
“I… I was in shock…”   
  
Mycroft watched her intently.   
  
“I am the eldest child in my family, as you know,” he finally said, turning his head and looking away from her.  “During my childhood I always was… too smart for the people around me… I was very fat, also.. No one loved fat, smart, arrogant kids, as you can probably imagine.”   
  
Molly had to suppress a chuckle when she heard Mycroft’s words.   
  
“The only people who had always loved me dearly were my parents. But, in general, I was always alone. No friends, no girlfriend. May I confess something to you, Molly?”   
  
She nodded, surprised by the sincerity of his tone.   
  
“When I was a teenager I dreamt of having  a girlfriend. But I was so fat and ugly, that all beautiful girls were repulsed by me, so I had to pretend I didn’t care for them…”   
  
Molly didn’t know what to say to that. She couldn’t understand the reason behind Mycroft’s behavior. Why was he telling her his childhood stories now? But even if she couldn’t understand the actual reason why he was opening up, she somehow found she was very interested in listening to him. Mycroft had always been so put together, to see him this vulnerable now was… touching.   
  
“Then there were Sherlock and Eurus. It was so hard for our parents, to have children like us. If you met them, you would see that they are completely normal, kind and caring people. I still can’t understand what was  broken inside us that we grew up like that, at least I can’t understand it completely… Well, Eurus was troubled from the start, but Sherlock… You wouldn’t believe me if I told you how kind and tender he was as a child.”   
  
Mention of Sherlock made Molly tense again. She sipped her wine and tried to relax.   
  
“But even the kindest, most tender person can be easily broken at such a young age. And Sherlock was broken by the loss of Victor. You remember Victor, don’t you? I told you about him.” Of course she remembered, how could she forget something like that? Unable to speak, she nodded affirmatively. “Well, what I am telling you now is: I made a mistake back then. When I saw Sherlock suffering and Eurus going completely crazy, I decided that caring was not an advantage and tried to delete all feelings I had inside me. For some time I thought I had  succeeded. I tried to teach Sherlock to do the same, and for some time I thought I had succeeded in that, too. But it seems he suppressed his feelings so hard they finally drove him to the drugs. I used to think it had been his entire fault. Now I came to realize it was actually mine. I was also suffering, as I understand now. I was all alone. But I was lucky to have my job. My position made me feel important tomy country, you see, and I managed to feel needed by working hard. You could say I served my country like any other man would serve the woman he loves. The fact that I can still be useful for the Kingdom keeps me sane. It also makes me more or less happy, to tell you the truth.”   
  
Molly smiled sadly at him.   
  
“Having the country trust you with its safety should be quite motivating, I suppose.”   
  
“It is, indeed” Mycroft smiled. “But I have recently understood that the main thing keeping my head above the water is my family. I understand now that my family needs me. And this is something that makes me completely happy. And I trust you not to tell anything about this conversation to Sherlock, or my mummy, of course.”   
  
She would have laughed at his last utterance if she hadn’t been  fighting the lump in her throat caused by her loneliness. Mycroft was eyeing her intently again.   
  
“You are also much needed, Molly,” he said suddenly, and she wasn’t able to fight her tears anymore.   
  
“I… I am not,” she sobbed.   
  
“What your saying is not true” Mycroft told her asshe was wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Little Miss Watson needs you, John needs you. Sherlock needs you.”   
  
Now she was furious.   
  
“They all need me  _ to do something _ for them. To babysit Rosie, to make an autopsy… Rosie has no mother and she is too little to decide whether she needs me or not. They ask me how I am doing just to ask me to do something for them afterwards… As for Sherlock…”   
  
“Sherlock still can’t cope with his emotions, I’m afraid” Mycroft interrupted her. “They are new to him and he is trying to figure out how to live with that.”   
  
“He was doing perfectly well when I saw him today... with another woman” Molly blurted without thinking.   
  
Oh God, it was none of her business... She should not have mentioned this topic to Mycroft.   
  
“Molly... Whatever it looks like, please believe me, that woman can never give Sherlock anything he needs.”   
  
“Well, it seems neither can I!”   
  
They sat in silence for some time.   
  
“Mycroft... Why did you start this conversation?” Molly asked, at last.   
  
“I honestly think that you need to know that you are important.”   
  
“Well... I don’t need to be important. I need to be loved!”   
  
She noticed him twitch, probably stopping himself from telling her something. She waited for him to say something , but he probably decided against it

.   
“You wouldn’t believe my words anyway.” he said with a sigh. “Could you please at least do me a favor?”   
  
She rolled her eyes. There it was: no one ever  initiated a conversation like this with her without an ulterior motive.   
  
“A favor?” she smirked bitterly. “What is it you need now, Mycroft?”   
  
“I need you to take care of yourself. Don’t do it for me. Do it for Rosie, Molly. Please.”   
  
Molly gasped in surprise. She expected anything but that. She looked down at her feet, avoiding Mycroft’s gaze, trying her best not to cry, but big tears were already running down her cheeks again.   
  
“Don’t worry, Mycroft, I will be here as long as Rosie needs me,” Molly croaked.   
  
She finally managed to meet his gaze and was surprised to see him looking at her, smiling warmly. Mycroft watched her for a bit longer before standing up.   
  
“I hope so fervently. Unfortunately, I have to go now. We still have to figure out what happened today. I will see you soon, Molly”.   
  
She nodded. She was about to see im out when a thought suddenly hit her.   
  
“Mycroft” she called, watching him turn his back and looking at her with curiosity. “Didn’t you want anything else?”   
  
He eyed her curiously.   
  
“I just wanted to make sure you were fine, Molly. And I’ve already asked you for a favor today, haven’t I?”   
  
She nodded again, and after a moment she closed the door behind him. She stood there, alone in the corridor,, and stared at the doorknob she was still holding in her hand. And that’s when she felt hot tears running down her cheeks. She couldn’t understand Mycroft’s motives, but one thing she knew for sure now: she had to stay around for a little longer, if only to take care of Rosie.   
  
***

Sherlock was sitting still, his chin resting on his intertwined fingers  His eyes were closed, and anyone who knew him well enough could have said he had gone into his Mind Palace. The only problem was, he hadn’t.   
  
He had tried again and again to reach the familiar chain of chambers he had been building up his entire life in his mind, but he couldn’t. It had always been the same for him: at first he would be standing in a bright empty room with white walls, a single door built into one of them. It was an entrance to the endless passage with doors on both sides. He knew where each door led to, the map of his Mind Palace forever engraved into his memory. He would enter the passage, go to the right door, open it and use the information that had been hidden in the room behind it. That had always been the case. 

 

Before today.  
  
Now he was standing in front of the door that led to the passage.  He had tried to open it, but before he could do it he had been knocked down from his feet by an incredibly strong wind flow (or something that felt like a wind flow). Sherlock had fallen painfully to the imaginary floor . The room wasn’t real, but the pain he felt was. His body ached from the impact, and he couldn’t bring himself to try to open the door to the passage again.  
  
The wind flow that knocked Sherlock down had also brought him feelings. After Mycroft left him to visit Molly earlier that day, Sherlock felt ruined. Images of Molly’s blank eyes and Irene’s body were flashing before his eyes, and he was starting to feel nauseous. Sherlock sighed heavily, opening his eyes and rubbing his temples. He had to focus, he had to understand what was going on and how to deal with it. They had tried to kill Rosie and Molly hours before.  He felt his fist clenching when he thought about it. Who were those people? What did they want from him? And what did Irene Adler have to do with it? He went through the conversation he’d had with Mycroft once more .  
  
  
_“Now… About you and Miss Adler…” Mycroft said._ __  
__  
_“What does it all have to do with The Woman?”_ __  
  
_“Haven’t you understood yet, brother dear, that this woman brings you nothing but trouble?”_  
__  
_“Are you here to lecture me, Mycroft? Or do you actually have some useful, information for me to process?” Sherlock snapped._  
  
_“Oh, I do have information, Sherlock. You mistakenly assumed that we were unaware of the fact that you had saved Miss Adler in Karachi. Back then she was irrelevant to us, so we gave her an opportunity to go and live her life. After all, your defeat over her made her lose any influence she had in the criminal world prior to that. Or at least we thought so. We made a mistake  in thinking that she wouldn’t be able get back on her feet. She is back now, but it’s not about… pleasure anymore. Pleasure always goes hand in hand with business for Miss Adler. So no matter how much you wanted her to be interested only in the… emotional aspects of your relationships, Irene Adler came back to London to complete some of her projects, and the essence of those projects is still unknown to us”._ __  
__  
_“Irene would never hurt a baby.” Sherlock’s head was spinning now._ __  
  
_“It is all a matter of price, Sherlock. Of course, it is not Miss Adler’s style to hurt children. But if her life was on the line, she would do everything to protect herself then. Miss Adler is either leading a new criminal organization that’s threatening Great Britain now or  trying to run from it to save her life. She has a weak spot for you, of course. That is why your encounter today was not dangerous for both you and the country. But your next meeting can be much less… pleasant.”_  
  
_“I have no intention to see her again. It was a mistake, I admit it. But I still don’t understand what it has to do with Molly and Rosie.”_  
  
_“Oh, brother mine, I have to check that information again later today. But if I am correct, then Miss Hooper and Miss Watson are both in  great danger. No matter what Miss Adler’s place in this organization is, they are most probably aiming you.”_ __  
__  
_“Why not just kill me then?”_  
  
“They want to teach everyone a lesson. They want to destroy everyone you… care about before they kill you, so that everyone knows what disobedience could cost  them. And this time you can’t follow the way you chose, defeating Moriarty’s network. This time we will have to find some other ways to fight the enemy. I sincerely hope that today’s attack was not aiming at someone specific, but if it was, we would have to hide Miss Hooper, Miss Watson and Mrs. Hudson until we defeat everyone who threatens them. We would also have to protect John Watson and Detective Lestrade, but this time, I suppose, they will have to get involved in the fight. But these people will aim at Miss Hopper and Miss Watson first.”  
  
“And why is that, Mycroft?”  
  
Sherlock felt his hands shaking again. He realized that he was beginning to have a  panic attack. He had to come up with some way to cope with it. He started to breath deeper, trying his best to relax and waiting for Mycroft to reply. He didn’t know what he felt. Thoughts of Molly being hurt or lying dead on the floor of that coffee shop made his body freeze. Sherlock couldn’t move, he had difficulty breathing. Why did these thoughts about Molly make him react like that?  
  
_I should stop caring so much!_ He thought. _It was all much easier when I didn’t care about her_! __Why do I care so much?  
  
Memories of Irene’s naked body were finally replaced by the sight of Molly’s pale face. It was a memory from when he had seen her that morning. He hated himself for the way she had looked at him. He suddenly felt the urge to fuck Irene once again in order to forget everything for a moment. 

 

He hated Molly Hooper and at the same time he couldn’t understand what he really felt towards her.   
  
_ It is all her fault! I don’t want to care! _ __  
__  
“It is because everyone has a weak spot, Sherlock” Mycroft replied. “And you have to understand that it is OK to have one. You need to understand that in order to protect the people you care about.”   
  
Was Molly his weak spot? She was his friend (he probably wasn’t the best friend a person could wish for, but at least he considered her to be  his friend). He cared about her, that was true, but when had she become a pressure point for him? 

 

He suddenly felt a rush of emotions similar to the one he felt when he had been trying to enter his Mind Palace. The realization hit him: for some reason the entrance to his Mind Palace was blocked by the emotions Molly Hooper had awoken in him. He still didn’t understand them, they hurt too much. He was furious because he couldn’t deal  with the fact that he wasn’t in entire control of his life anymore. He couldn’t control his feelings, and he didn’t understand what it was that he felt exactly.   
  
Sherlock opened his eyes and came back to the reality of his room. His phone was buzzing. He picked it up.   
  
“John, you need to come home as soon as possible. I will ask Mycroft to send a car to the hotel you are staying in at the moment. It’s urgent.”   
  
***

Molly had been woken up by a crying Rosie at 4 in the morning.  She was glad she had kept the girl in her bed for the night, because when Rosie awoke (presumably from a nightmare) she was hysterical and couldn’t stop crying. She had been choking on her own tears. Molly had held Rosamund tightly in her arms,and it took half an hour for the little girl to calm down. When Rosie finally dozed off,  Molly found that she herself could no longer sleep.   
  
She got a call from Dr Stamford around 6 in the morning. He asked her to if she was available to go to the morgue. The amount of victims after the previous day’s attack was increasing and they were understaffed , so Molly had to take Rosie to the Barts’ crèche.  There they had to call a doctor, who prescribed the girl mild sedatives because Rosie just wouldn’t calm down. It seemed the shock of what had happened was finally getting to her. After such traumatic experience, she was crying and shaking feverishly. Molly knew that this behavior would help Rosie handle the trauma (after all, kids always acted on instinct, and it was good for them to cry, so the pain  wouldn’t stay in). But when the girl began shaking at the risk of hurting herself with, Molly had to interfere and call a pediatrician. The sedatives were for the best, but Molly still felt guilty about the whole situation. John hadn’t called yet and Molly was sofurious with him.   
  
Sometimes she had wondered if John felt guilty at all. Molly felt terrible for not being able to protect Rosie from the situation at the coffee shop, even knowing that she had done her best for the girl. John, on the other side, had left his daughter with her and hadn’t even bothered to call. Even if he had been at Harry’s (and Molly was sure he hadn’t been), wouldn’t it be normal to call and ask about how his daughter was doing? Molly was scared that Rosie would be grow i up going through the same problems Molly herself  had faced during her own childhood. 

 

Molly didn’t remember her mother. Her father was very caring and loving, of course, and for some time Molly didn’t realize that she felt a bit… wrong. Growing up, she had started to realize that something was off with her. It felt like something was missing from her life. She didn’t know how to bond with other people. Her relationship with her father had been good, but when he passed away Molly was left feeling alone. She had been scared back then, and sometimes she’d thought she wasn’t able to bond with  other people because of her fear of losing them. 

 

She had kept  going back to those thoughts during the years she spent being in love with Sherlock. What had driven her to love him? Why couldn’t she stay with Tom? Why couldn’t she flirt a bit and have some easy affair with someone like Lestrade, for example? Every time she thought about it over the years, she came to the conclusion that she was broken. And this meant  she loved someone who was just as broken as she was. When this thought crossed her mind for the first time, she felt so much love for Sherlock that it made her forget all his faults and forgive him for all the times he was cruel to her. She forgave and forgave, she gave all of herself to him, and after she was done giving she was left feeling broken. 

 

And now she had nothing else to give. She was empty. She still loved him, but this love was too destructive. And it destroyed her. Now, all she had to do was kill herself, her body, because her soul was already dead. But even though she thought her soul was dead, it still hurt immensely   
It was around 11 in the morning and Molly was finishing her third autopsy of the day when the doors to the morgue opened. She grabbed the scalpel with such force  her knuckles turned white. 

 

Sherlock entered the morgue followed by John and Mycroft.   
  
“Molly…” Sherlock stopped before the slab. She saw him swallow, and then he  lowered his eyes for a second before he looked back at her, his expression unclear.   
  
“Molly, where is Rosie?” John looked concerned, and it made her furious.   
  
She didn’t answer him.  She put the scalpel into the sink, took off her gloves and glasses, and then she came closer to John and slapped him as hard as she could. She heard a gasp coming from Sherlock and saw John turning his head back to look at her with an overwhelmed expression.   
  
“You bloody bastard!” she hissed. “You are the most unworthy father this world has ever seen! Pray to God your daughter doesn’t hate you when she grows up! Because if you continue to behave like this, John, she will have every right to hate you, you fucking moron! You don’t deserve to be her father! You don’t deserve the happiness to have her as your daughter!”   
  
John tried to say something, a hand  still cupping his cheek. But she slapped him once again, this time on his other cheek.  She was furious and wanted to tear the man’s eyes out with her bare hands. In that moment she felt someone’s arms wrapping her from behind, immobilizing her. She felt the tall form pressing into her when she realized that it was Sherlock holding her tightly to him.   
  
“Molly, please, you need to calm down” Sherlock’s words sounded like a plea.   
  
She felt his lips pressing to the back of her head. For a moment she couldn’t move, the sensation so overwhelming she could feel it everywhere in her body. Unconsciously, she closed her eyes for a second, but then she remembered what had happened at Baker Street the day before . He hadn’t been alone. The same body pressed against hers he had used to fuck another woman. And now he was using it to manipulate her, just like he always did. 

 

With a light shriek she escaped from his arms and flew to the other side of the room. She hated herself for the fact that the moment he kissed her she had felt something resembling hope. She shouldn’t have let hope trick her again. She had hoped for far too long, and every time she had felt worse and worse as a result. She had no hope left anymore.   
  
“You” she hissed again. “Never touch me again, Sherlock. Never again!”   
  
She had never seen him like that. He looked lost. He stood in front of her, his mouth slightly open, inhaling deeply. John was standing behind Sherlock, looking embarrassed. It was only when Mycroft spoke that they all came back from the trance this situation had put them all in.   
  
“Molly” she saw the way Sherlock looked at Mycroft when he heard him call her by her first name. “Please listen to me. Mrs. Hudson, Rosie and you are in a great danger. We need to hide you as soon as possible. It is a matter of life or death now.”   
  
Molly eyed him for a second. Mycroft was looking calm and put together.   
  
_ A matter of life or death, _ she thought to herself. She was fine with death . She had been craving that recently.   
  
“I am not going anywhere,” she said.   
  
“Molly, you are in danger.”   
  
“I don’t give a damn, Mycroft, I won’t let you take me anywhere!”   
  
“Molly, please…” Sherlock started, but she interrupted him.   
  
“Don’t say  _ please _ to me, Sherlock! You have no voice here. I am an adult and I am perfectly capable of deciding for myself.”   
  
“Molly, even if you don’t want to be protected, Rosie needs you now. You promised me yesterday that you would be there for her for as long as she needs you.” Mycroft still sounded calm and that infuriated Molly even more. Sherlock gave his brother an angry look,  the nature of which was not clear for Molly. It was like he didn’t like the fact that Molly had this strange intimacy with Mycroft now. Molly brushed this thought off.

  
“She won’t need me if her father stays with her! I am not her mother, after all. It’s her father’s main duty to protect her and to be there for her! Do you know that the doctors had to sedate her because she just would not calm down, John?”   
  
John looked back at Molly, worried, but he didn’t say anything.   
“Molly, Mr. Watson and Sherlock will be needed on this case. Mr. Watson won’t be able to stay by his daughter. He will be much more useful if he stays here in London to help Sherlock solve the case. Mrs. Hudson will require help with Rosamund. I could send some of my agents with her, but Miss Watson is a bit unstable after everything she went through yesterday, and she needs someone she knows well to feel better… Could you please help us?” Molly saw that Mycroft was now frowning a little.   
  
She remembered how Rosie had cried in her arms this morning. She couldn’t leave her alone.   
  
“Fine. I’ll go. For Rosie.”

 


	6. Legal...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft looks after Molly and sugests something she hasn't yet considered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the feedback on the previous chapter! That is my first work, and it's really great to receive it!
> 
> Many thanks to my great beta comeaftermejackrobinson for being patient with my awful use of past tense :)
> 
> Here is an update. And several more to come as soon as they are edited. Hope you'll enjoy :)

**Chapter 6.** ****  
****  
  


Molly was walking down the street of Scrabster to the small grocery store. She had noticed it the day after she, Mrs. Hudson and Rosie were moved there. It was quite chilly in the evenings, but she still loved to go to the grocery shop, using it as an excuse to be alone for some time. Mrs. Hudson was good to Molly, she helped with Rosie quite a lot as well. But she was constantly talking about Sherlock and John, and Molly just needed some time for herself after those conversations.

 

Despite Molly’s depressed state, she felt somehow calmer in that small settlement in the North of Scotland. Two weeks had already passed since their arrival. It was now mid-October, so when she had opened the window in her small but cozy room in their cottage the day before, she felt her breath stuck in her throat. It was all about natural lightning, she thought. The days were getting shorter and the light was richer now. The grass was changing colors, and the hills covered by rocks of different sizes were making the sight mysterious and gloomy. It rained quite often there that time of the year, and watching the mist gathering around their cottage in the evening Molly felt like she was living inside  _ Wuthering Heights _ .

 

When  it was sunny, like it had been the day she was struck by the sight behind her window, it overwhelmed her. It was as if gold was pouring down from the skies, fondling the rough nature of the region. Their cottage was standing not far from the edge of the rocky shore. Molly loved the sea (especially northern sea, like there, in Scrabster).   
  
  


She had heard about the place before. It was a popular surfing spot- not that Molly was a surfing fan of any sort, of course. She had gone out on a date with a guy she’d met in a pub, and he turned out to be the surfing-type. Handsome, fit and tanned from his holidays in Portugal, no need to say that he was not really interested in postmortems. It had happened before Sherlock, and Molly was, of course, younger back then and felt just a bit more pretty than she did nowadays.. But they didn’t go out a second time. She was too young, and the guy was so out of her league, she thought, that it turned out to be a terrible one-night stand after which Molly had to take the morning after pill and remembered to never again go to a date without a condom in her purse. She didn’t even remember the guy’s name, but for some reason she still remembered the name of the place he had told her about. 

 

Scrabster, Thurso region, Scotland. 

 

Molly loved Scotland because her father used to take her to the Highlands. They had been there at least once on two different occasions during her childhood, but she had never been to Scrabster before. The name was quite funny. And she, of course, was a little bit surprised to find herself here under such circumstances. 

  
However, there they were, three women of different ages pretending to be a family. Their new surname was Roberts, and she was now called Margaret instead of Molly. She had despised the name before, but now she didn’t actually care. This was the story they had come up with;  she was an anthropologist,  she had moved there to finish her new book, and she’d brought her mother and niece with her. There were not so many locals in Scrabster, but the tourists loved it , and the landscape was so inspiring it made sense that someone would go there to finish a book.  That was why their story was so easy to believe. 

 

Molly was supposed to use the time to finish her  article for a forensic pathology magazine, but she couldn’t even bring herself to start. She could see no reason to do it at all.  No matter how much calmer she felt now, she was still going to end her life when everything was over and Rosie and Mrs. Hudson were safe.   
  
She had been taken to the hiding place straight from Barts, which meant she hadn’t  had any opportunity to bring anything with her. Anthea, now living in the house nearby and providing surveillance for their own,bought new clothes for everyone. Molly, however, had managed to grab some prescription forms just in case she needed one for herself.

 

Her new clothes were all in dim colors, though quite stylish, and now Molly was walking towards the grocery shop trying to wrap herself tightly in her new haki parka. She probably had reasons to feel quite good-looking now, but, once again, she just didn’t care anymore. 

 

She hadn’t heard anything from Sherlock or John after they separated in London. Sherlock had been too tense after their encounter at the morgue. He had been gritting his teeth when Mycroft put Molly into a car near Barts, and he didn’t even say goodbye to her. For a second, Molly felt a sting of sorrow in her chest, but tried to suppress it immediately

  
Molly didn’t have the slightest idea how the case was going.  All she knew was that both Sherlock and John were alive, and that was something she felt relieved about. It didn’t matter  how angry she was at John or Sherlock, or how much she wished she was dead now, she still cared too much about both of them. She had to come to terms with the fact that she would never be able to do the opposite. . She cared for John, even if  he had been such a prick lately. And she just couldn’t stop loving Sherlock. And she knew she would love him until the end, so she would just have to find a way to deal with it in the meantime. 

.   
To Molly’s surprise, Mycroft was stopping by every other day. She didn’t know how it was possible for him to be away from London so often, but somehow he was regularly sitting in the kitchen of their cottage drinking tea and eating the scones Mrs. Hudson was baking almost daily. The woman seemed nervous, and apparently spending time in the kitchen helped her relax.   
The first day Mycroft went to visit them, Molly wasn’t at home. Mrs. Hudson stayed in the cottage with Rosie, and Molly went to the shore. There was that glorious place not far from their house, one of the tourists attractions, where the stone pillar was raising from the sea that was crashing into it with all nature might. Molly was captivated by the view.   
She had been standing under the furious blows of wind, freezing to the bones, but hadn’t wanted to go home just yet. She would have gladly stayed there forever, even frozen, even dead, near this overwhelmingly mighty sight.   
  
“I am seriously afraid, that you will catch a cold, Molly”, she had heard his voice coming from behind.

“I am seriously afraid that I don't really care, Mycroft” she had answered, smiling to him despite her initial wish.   
  
He was looking too casual that day, his usual suit replaced by a black jacket and jeans. Molly thought for a second that she had never seen Mycroft wearing jeans, and was very surprised to realize that they actually suited him, making him look less distant. They stood there, on a Scottish shore, two people looking completely normal from the outside. But anyone that looked on the inside would find that they were completely different from the rest of the world.    
Mycroft had noticed Molly’s confusion and smirked. 

“The circumstances asked for changes in my attire, I’m afraid” he’d explained.

  
Molly had suddenly realized that he hadn’t come here with some bad news, so she’d relaxed a little.    
  


“Why are you here, Mycroft?” she’d asked.

“Oh, there is no need to worry, I’ve come to the region for business. But I think I won’t be able to see it through  if you insist on us freezing to death” she’d seen the corners of his lips twitch in that moment. 

 

After that, they had gone back to the house and sat in the kitchen. The mug of hot tea had made Molly feel  all warm inside. Mycroft had been chewing on one of the scones when she realized that suddenly for the first time in many weeks, she was starting to feel good.   
  
  


“So, how are you, Molly?” Mycroft had asked.

“We’ve been quite good, actually, thank you. Rosie has made friends at the playground and she has even learned a couple of new words... Actually, many of them  are connected to the seafood... There is quite a lot of seafood here…”

 

Mycroft had laughed at that, which had surprised Molly once again. . That was also a first. , She had never heard him laugh before..   
  
  


“Mrs. Hudson bakes all the time, as you may have noticed” she’d gone on. smirking when Mycroft remembered himself and put the third scone back on the plate “We are fine.”   
  
  


“And what about you?”   
  


Molly eyed Mycroft trying to understand what he was asking about.   
  


“I am... fine as well.”

  
“Do you need anything?”   
  


“I... No, I don’t think so.”   
  
Mycroft had been watching her, and she had had to bury her face in her cup to hide her embarrassment. Mycroft hadn’t pushed  for more information than she’d been ready to share, and so they had gone on with their tea, talking silently.   
  
  


“Molly,” Mycroft had called before exiting the cottage later that evening. “Please, don’t hesitate to ask for anything you may need it.”   
  
  


She had nodded, and then she had closed the door behind him. For the first time in many weeks, Molly had felt like smiling once she was left alone. .

  
It had taken two weeks for them to make a habit of having tea together. . Molly was too tired to continue searching for a reason behind Mycroft’s attention and so she had decided that she had the right to relax for a bit. After all, Mycroft had never asked anything in return for his goodness Besides, if he ever asked her to do something for him, she would do it anyway.  She would have done it before regardless of whether he was nice to her or not. . Molly just couldn’t say no to anyone, no matter how hard she tried. She was now fine with this, so she was just enjoying the time she spent with Mycroft.    
“May I ask you about your mother, Molly?” he asked her once.

  
“What about her?” Molly frowned involuntary.

  
Her mother wasn’t someone she liked to talk about. After all, there was nothing to talk about. 

“Can you tell me about her? Do you remember her?”

  
“Don’t you have some special file on everyone who surrounds your dear brother, Mycroft?” Molly smirked bitterly. This particular topic made her feel she needed to get her guard back on after two weeks of letting it down a bit.    
“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, Molly” Mycroft smiled. “You are right, I know some basic facts about her, but I was interested to hear the story from your perspective.”   
Molly sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. 

 

_ Well, why not, after all? _ she thought.   
  


“Well, my mother left when I was four years old. After that, there were only three of us left: my father, my elder brother Ian and I… Ian is seven years older than me, but you probably know about him. Well, after out mother left us, our father tried his best to care for me and my brother. I’ve never been close to Ian. He was made to babysit me when I was little, and that annoyed him. I can’t judge him for that. He was always the popular one at school, and it was really boring for him to sit with his baby sister while all his friends went out to party. Things became better between us when I grew up, but we’ve never been close. I guess that dad also loved me a bit more than he loved him. I was a girl, you see, and daddy just couldn’t forbid me anything. Ian left our house as soon as he could, and it’s been years since I last saw him. . He didn’t even show up for dad’s funeral. . We ran into each other once, I was about to finish uni. We didn’t talk much, you know… He told me that he had found our mother… Apparently they have a good relationship now. He told me how good she was with her new husband. It was the last time I saw him, and it was… quite painful, you know. I asked daddy once, why she left. He told me that after my birth she had to stay at home and look after us. I guess she didn’t like it. I asked my father if they had planned to have me at all, and he didn’t answer. He could never lie to me, that’s how I understood that for her I had always been a mistake. It doesn’t hurt very much anymore. But I guess that I missed something. I still don’t understand too well how to be feminine, I never managed to have long-term relationships, except for Tom… But Tom wasn’t a successful project, either. I know  people laugh at my choice of wardrobe, I can hear them. I need to thank Anthea for the new clothes, by the way, I guess I can use it as an example for my future purchases.”   
  


“I have learned to like your choice of clothes” Mycroft said thoughtfully, making Molly choke on her tea.   
  


“Come on, Mycroft! You own too many impeccable suits to love cherry-jumpers! I would much appreciate it if you didn’t try to be polite by lying to me.”   
  


“Well, I wouldn’t say that I like every piece of your wardrobe I have ever had a chance to see, but, believe me, after spending my life in a world of black and white three-pieces suits I have learned to enjoy some colors in other people’s cloting… But I interrupted you, please forgive me.”   
  


The joy brought by their last exchange evaporated from Molly’s chest when she thought of her mother again.   
  


“Well… There’s actually nothing else to say. My mother left, and I didn’t have a good feminine role model when I was growing up. So I turned out to be what I turned out to be.”   
  


“I would say I’m sorry, Molly, but that would be too banal.” Mycroft sighed looking out of the kitchen window. “I guess it’s better to say that you will be a great role model for all your children, no matter what happened to you.”   
  


Molly felt the tears burning in her eyes. She tried to take a deep breath, tried to stop them from falling. 

“I… I won’t.”

  
“Why not?”

  
“Because I’ll never have any children.”   
  


She felt the tears streaming down her cheeks, so she turned to the window to hide her face from Mycroft. He didn’t say a word, presumably giving her time to collect herself. She desperately wanted this conversation to be over. All the pain that had begun to fade from her life during the past two weeks was coming back with twice as strong. . She was alone, no one waited for her at home. That was one of the  reasons for her decision. A decision, she realized, that she had started to forget about lately.   
  
  


“Even if you don’t, you already have Rosie.” Mycroft told her when she calmed down a bit.   
This remark made her very angry.   
  


“Rosie is not my daughter! I am her godmother, but all this time we are spending together seems stolen or borrowed!” She hissed. “I am stealing the time Mary could have had with her daughter if she had been alive! Besides, someday John will come to his senses, Rosie will get older, less annoying and more interesting to him and I will be seeing her once a week or even once a month! And as soon as that happens, I will be alone, Mycroft.”   
  


“Mary Watson is dead and it is not your fault, Molly.” Mycroft replied very calmly. “Rosie needs someone to be her mother, and you are already doing a great job. I can’t promise you that you will have your own children, of course, but I can tell you for sure that you will be always important to her. And if Mr. Watson is foolish enough to take Rosie from you - which I admit he can be - I can do my best to protect you from such a situation. What would you say if I offered to make you Rosie’s legal guardian? You could help John raising his daughter and have more legal rights to make decisions for her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on tumblr. I am polinaduntonwrites there. :)


	7. What are you doing?..

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly has to reconsider everything she knows about John and Marry Watson. And then Sherlock shows up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for keeping you waiting. The editing of this chapter took longer than I planned. The next chapter should be coming soon, so keep in touch. 
> 
> Thank you for reviews and kudos! They make me happy :)
> 
> Thanks again to my great beta comeaftermejackrobinson!

****

 

**Chapter 7.**

 

**What are you doing?..**

 

Molly was looking at Mycroft with her eyes wide open now. He was looking at her as intently.

None of them said a thing.  


She tried her best to suppress the feeling of hope, rising in her chest. She tried not to think about how nice it would be to be officially connected to her little girl. Becoming her legal guardian would mean she would be Rosie’s family. Then, Molly would be able to take Rosie to her home and make it Rosie’s home as well. John didn’t seem to care too much that his daughter had been spending most of her time with Molly anyway.

 

For a second, Molly wanted to laugh with joy, but then she remembered Mary.

 

“No matter what I think about John, it can’t be decided without him.” Molly swallowed hard.“Besides,” she exhaled loudly. “John won’t let me have Rosie because it won’t be fair to Mary.”  
  
  


  


Mycroft was silent for several minutes, watching Molly from his seat.  


“John Watson’s feelings of guilt should not stop his daughter from having a good mother. A mother that would be so much better than anything Marry Watson could have been, to tell you the truth!” he seemed very annoyed now, while Molly gasped at hearing the words he had to say about Mary.  
  


“Don’t say that!”   
“And why shouldn’t I, Molly? Just give it a thought for a moment, please. When she understood she was in danger, Marry didn’t come to her husband to explain the situation, didn’t let Sherlock help her. What did she do? She chose to leave her daughter and run away. Then she didn’t think twice when she was called to that aquarium, the night she was killed. Yes, I’m very grateful to her for saving my brother’s life, but it doesn’t make her a good mother, does it? Mary didn’t even plan to have a baby, and neither did John Watson, I believe. Do you actually know what her real story was, Molly?”   
  


“Yes… Yes, I know. She told me everything when she asked me if I would  be Rosie’s godmother.”

“So you know that she was a trained assassin hiding from her former life by lying to her husband, don’t you? Well, I must say, we all have our own issues.” He smirked. “Mary Watson was very smart and very brave. But that doesn’t make her a good mother. A good mother would stay with her child, because children can’t care for themselves,. Yes, I understand that Sherlock would be dead now if it weren’t for Mary, but he should have died if by doing that it meant that Rosie would be protected and raised by both her parents! Actually, I dare say he would die for Rosie. He almost died for John after Mary’s death.”  


Molly realized, she had started crying again, but Mycroft wasn’t finished telling what he thought yet.  
  
“You, on the contrary, sacrificed your love for Sherlock when John told you he didn’t want him to be near his daughter ever again.You did it just to make sure Rosamund was fine, Molly. You didn’t think twice. You didn’t think twice to step in when one of Rosie’s parents abandoned her while the other had been cheating on his wife when she was still alive!”   
  
Molly gasped, and she saw Mycroft wince at the realization of what he’d just said.   


“What… What do you mean?” she whispered.

Mycroft frowned and fixed his eyes on his hands. After a couple of minutes, he finally spoke again.

  
“I shouldn’t be telling you this, Molly, but when Mary was still alive John had met a woman on a bus. They didn’t do anything specific, but there was texting. And John’s wife didn’t know about it.”

“How… How do you know all this, Mycroft?”  


Mycroft sighed.  


“I know because this woman happened to be my sister, Eurus…”  
  
  
  
They had spent a couple more hours in the kitchen after Mycroft’s confession. Molly listened  to his explanations, and when he was nearing the end of the story it started to get harder for her to breathe. Could this situation be even more sicker? Every single time Molly thought she had reached the bottom, she discovered she quite hadn’t. They were interrupted by Mrs. Hudson, who had gone down to the kitchen to drink some water, and Molly suddenly realized that it was already 1 o’clock in the morning.  Mycroft seemed to realize at the same moment how late it’d gotten, because he started gathering his things, ready to leave. They went to the living room, where Rosie was sleeping on the sofa, waiting for Molly to bring her upstairs with her (the girl still suffered from nightmares, that was why both Molly and Mrs. Hudson preferred to keep her close).

 

Molly and Mycroft stopped at the front door.  
  
“I am really sorry, Molly. I shouldn’t have told you any of this… After all, it is my fault as well. If it wasn’t for Eurus, John wouldn’t have done anything like that, I suppose…”

  
“You are wrong!” Molly interrupted him. “If it wasn’t for Eurus, John would have found someone else to be texting or even meeting with.”

  
Mycroft stood motionless for a few moments. Then he nodded his agreement to Molly.

 

“Remember what I told you. I ask you to please discuss the situation with John if you think it’s required. But please, Molly, consider my offer.”  
  
She nodded affirmatively.   


“Mycroft,” she called his name before they said goodbye. “I know that it’s probably useless to ask you for it, but please, try not to judge yourself too much. You did what you had to do. With Eurus, I mean. You probably made a mistake in the past, but at least you acknowledged it. Try not to be too hard on yourself, please.”  
  


He watched her for a moment before offering a warm smile. .  


“I’ll do my best, Molly.”  


She was ready to open the door for him when he suddenly asked:  


“Molly, Sherlock has been asking me about you. Should I send him a message from you?”

  
Molly frowned.   


“Tell him that Rosie and Mrs. Hudson are fine. We are all safe.”

  
“He asked me about your condition specifically.”

  
“My condition is none of his concern,” she replied dryly.   
  
Next day, after Mrs. Hudson had already gone to bed, Molly was sitting near the window in her room sipping a glass of the wine she had brought that day. She had decided it was fine to treat herself to a bottle of wine once a week. Rosie was sleeping in Mrs. Hudson’s room that day, so Molly had some time for herself. It was hard to get Rosie to sleep if Molly wasn’t in the room with her, but she needed a little space from time to time, and that day, after she had to spend two hours cradling Rosie and rocking her to sleep, she felt like she was reaching her limit   
  
She was thinking about her conversation with Mycroft,  the one they’d had the day before. She felt anger boiling in her chest. In all the years she had known him, Molly had thought well of John Watson. He seemed nicer, kinder and much more friendly than Sherlock, and Molly thought that he was, generally speaking, a very good lad. But now, remembering the time they spent side by side, she had to reconsider everything she had thought about that man. The way he had begun acting after Rosie was born changed things.

  
After Sherlock faked his death, John hadn’t been able to bring himself to visit Mrs. Hudson. It had been too hard for him to go to Baker Street, he’d told her, and she had thought that she understood him. But everyone had been grieving back then, even her, who always knew that Sherlock hadn’t actually died! Even Greg Lestrade had visited Mrs. Hudson.John hadn’t  He simply hadn’t been able to do it.

 

Then there was Rosie. Mycroft was right, Rosie hadn’t been planned, actually. She remembered Mary’s surprise, her joy when Sherlock had told her that she was pregnant. Oh, she remembered it just too well! The thought of Mary raised a new wave of rage inside Molly. Everything Mycroft had told her about Mary was true!  


Suddenly Molly heard a noise coming from the front door. She tensed: it was too late an hour for visitors, and Mycroft had been there to see them the day before. She took the fire iron (she had a fireplace in her room) and headed downstairs as quietly as she could.

  
She saw a tall, dark figure entering the house.

By the time she recognized who it was, she had already hit them with the fire iron.   


“ARGH! FUCK!” Sherlock cried out, grabbing his injured hand.  
  


She hadn’t hit him with too much force, but he seemed to be in pain.

“Molly, it’s me, for God’s sake!”

  
“I knew it was you” Molly smiled darkly. “If I hadn’t, I would have hit you in the head”.   


She saw John entering the house quickly, following Sherlock and turning the light on.  


“Bloody hell, woman!” Sherlock hissed. “What was that for?!”

  
“What are you doing here, Sherlock?” she asked, not bothering to answer his question.   


She heard Mrs. Hudson coming out of her room, gasping happily at the sight of her boys.  


“John wanted to see Rosie.” Sherlock explained.

  
“Oh, did he now?” she saw John frowning at her words.

  
“Yes, he did. And also, you… You didn’t send me any messages with Mycroft. You didn’t tell him how you were. That’s why I decided we needed to check on you ourselves. Don’t worry, the guards were informed about our visit beforehand.”   


Mrs. Hudson came down the stairs to hug both men.

  
“Oh, my darlings! I will warm dinner for you, you must be hungry!” she exclaimed.

  
“We are famished, Mrs. Hudson! Dinner would be very nice, thank you.” John smiled at the old lady. “Where is Rosie?” he asked Molly.

  
“She is sleeping in Mrs. Hudson’s room” Molly answered. “She can’t sleep alone after the explosion, that is why we always keep her near.”   


She saw the expression of guilt crossing John’s face, but she wasn’t sorry for him, not even for a moment.

  
“Can she... May I have her in my room for today?” John asked Molly quietly.   


She eyed him for a second before she answered.  


“I’ll wake her up and bring her here to see you.”  


After an hour, John and Rosie were settled in one of the guest rooms. Molly still had to sit with the girl while she was drifting back to sleep, but at least Rosie got used to John very quickly again. Molly supposed that was because of the fact that he was the girl’s father, after all.  


Molly thought of this for a moment. Would Rosie have to get used to her again if she needed to leave the girl for a week or two? She wasn’t so sure about the answer.

 

Mrs. Hudson fed John and Sherlock and then went back to sleep, promising to bake some scones the next morning. Molly was left alone with Sherlock in the kitchen. She was going to finish doing the dishes and then head to bed like everyone else. Sherlock’s presence didn’t help her composure.  
  


“Molly?” she suddenly heard his baritone voice behind her back.

  
She turned to him, raising her eyebrows questioningly.

  
“How… How are you?” he stammered.

  
“I’m fine, Sherlock.” She turned her back on him again and faced the sink. She had to finish the dishes.   


  


He was watching her back, overwhelmed by the flow of emotions that had hit him the moment he had seen her.  Emotions that hadn’t stopped ever since.

 

He was relieved to see she was alive and safe. For the past two weeks he had been consumed by the case, solving the riddles their new enemy had left for him. He would have loved to say that he hadn’t thought about her during those weeks, but he couldn’t say so because then it would have been a lie. Every time his brain had stopped for a second, she had been there. Her eyes, filled with hate when she saw him with Irene, her reaction in the morgue when he hugged her. He had been in pain back then, when she had pushed him away. He hadn’t wanted to let her go. He wanted to keep her safe, but she was so very angry with him that he couldn’t bring himself to come closer to her after she had flown to the other side of the room the moment he had dared put  his arms around her. He hadn’t been able to understand his feelings until the moment Mycroft had addressed her by her first name. That had been the moment Sherlock felt the strongest twinge of jealousy he had ever experienced. He had wanted to punch Mycroft in the face only because f he and Molly seemed to be friends now. He had wanted to hurt his brother because Molly was listening to him, because Molly actually spoke to him and answered his questions.   


During the first two weeks Molly had been sent to the secret location, Sherlock had tried to avoid any and all thoughts of her. But it seemed like Molly Hooper was an essential part of his life now.

He realized that he had always thought of her as of someone that was irreplaceable, someone that just couldn’t go away from his life. And she had stayed, but he hadn’t seemed to care about her too much.

 

Now she was distant, and he was in pain.  


It was new, he was sure. Had Molly left before Sherrinford, had she really moved on with Tom, he would have been able to let her go, he probably wouldn’t have noticed her walking away from him. They would have been just colleagues who met in the morgue from time to time, she would have been someone who performed  autopsies on the bodies he needed for his work. She wouldn’t have been _his_ pathologist, she would have been just one more pathologist. He had been too good at suppressing his feelings, and he probably hadn’t felt  so strongly about her back then.

 

Now the feelings were so strong that Sherlock was frightened. He didn’t notice when everything changed. Had it started before or after Mary died?

 

He remembered how sad Molly had looked after findingout he hadn’t even said goodbye to her when he was sent to exile. Back then he had felt guilty because he had made her sad. He had understood then that she was his friend. The most faithful one.

But his feelings had changed so much since then, they had grown into something completely different, and he was afraid to give ‘this’ or ‘them’ a name now. Everyone was crazy about love… Was it love he felt towards Molly? Did he lo… No, he shouldn’t have done that! He shouldn’t have fallen in lo... He didn’t want it!  
  


But watching her in front of the kitchen window, with her back turned on him, seeing her small frame wrapped in some new clothes that presumably Anthea had bought for her, he craved speaking with her. He couldn’t stop himself. And so in two quick movements he was near her, hugging her from behind.  
  


“Sherlock!” she gasped. “What are you doing?!”  


She turned clumsily. She was now facing him. He was much taller than her, so she had to lift her head up to see his face. He lowered his to see her as well.  


“Sherlock, let me go.”

  
He didn’t, because he couldn’t.   


“Sherlock,” he noticed her eyes began watering. She was whispering now. “What do you need? Why are you doing this?”

  
  
“I don’t know.” He managed to say, unable to take his eyes off of her.   
  


“Then let me go... Please...”  
  


“Okay” he agreed before his lips covered hers.  
  


She gasped against his mouth at first, and when her lips parted he unconsciously used it to his advantage to deepen the kiss. He couldn’t understand what had gotten into him, but at that very moment he wanted to own her, to merge with her, to make her part of him.

  
Kissing Molly Hooper was completely different from kissing Irene Adler. It wasn’t a matter of skill (for God’s sake, everyone could become a good kisser with a little practice). It was a matter of sensation. Sherlock suddenly realized that Molly felt like... his. Molly’s kisses weren’t aggressive like Irene’s, she didn’t try to claim anything with her lips, she was just giving and giving, as she always had when it came to him. He knew from his many deductions that Molly could be demanding in some cases, she could probably be wild with her kisses and her needs, but not now. Now he needed her to be there for him, he needed her to be gentle and caring, he needed her to feel good about herself, thus making him feel better. And so there she was doing exactly what he needed.

He had felt so awful during those  two weeks with Molly being away, so much that t he might have slipped heavily in the process. But he drove the thought away, concentrating on the blissful taste of Molly’s mouth.   
  


                                                              ***  
  


She felt dizzy. It seemed like she had finally died, and apparently there was a heaven after all. How had it started? When had it started? How much time had passed since he had agreed to let her go but kissed her instead? Molly felt a little bit foolish trying to understand each shade of emotion that filled her when she felt his mouth on hers. It was quite impossible, because it was her whole body, no place left for any other thought. . She felt his body under her hands, his muscles moving under her fingers. She felt his hot breathing coming from his nose and tickling her cheek. She was aware of all those little, special things a person noticed when he (or she) kissed someone they loved for the first time. She almost melted into him completely, but for a second her mind took over the situation suddenly.

  
“Sherlock,” she whispered into his mouth. “What are you doing?”   


He inhaled her, deepening the kiss further, before he answered.  
  


“I... I don’t know...” he whispered, still kissing her. “I don’t want to do it...”  


It felt as if a bucket of ice-cold water had been poured on her. She pushed him away. She had promised herself she wouldn’t buy this tricks of his anymore. It was always like that with Sherlock: pleasant at first, then terribly cruel afterwards. And the main problem was that he hadn’t been changing the strategy during the past years. At first, had he needed something she shouldn’t be giving him, he would be charming, polite and sometimes even caring with her, but then after she gave him everything he wanted he was back to his usual self. .

 

She thought he had changed a bit lately, but the situation they were currently in showed her that it really hadn’t. What did he need now? Perhaps he noticed that she had been distant lately. He probably didn’t want to lose his pathologist and wasn’t able to come up with anything more creative than to kiss her mind out of her head. Molly remembered the bottle of pills that was waiting for her at home, and she also remembered the reason why she had decided  to use them.  
  


“Fuck off, Sherlock!” she hissed, pushing him away and running out of  the kitchen. “Fuck. Off!”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on tumblr. Polinaduntonwrites. :)


	8. Of tenderness.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's time in Scrabster puts everything to the right places, doesn't it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my beta comeaftermejackrobinson. Girl, you are simly the best. I wish I could know how to use English as well as you do. Please, remember, how wonderful you are!
> 
> There are many chapters written, but they will be here only as soon as they are beta-read.

****

 

**Chapter 8.**

 

**Of tenderness.**

 

He couldn’t understand what had happened. One second he had her lips on his (and to be completely honest with himself, he wanted to never let her go). Next thing he knew,  she was gone. After several seconds had passed, he remembered the words he had say to her, remembered himself admitting that he didn’t want to do it. John would probably tell him that it had been “a bit not good” (as always), and for the first time in his life he could understand why it hadn’t been good and why he had fucked up once again. The development of his feelings towards Molly Hopper was hard to understand, but this had been a constant, unstoppable process. He had tried to fight his feelings at first, but they wouldn’t die or go away. And then finally he realized that if he didn’t accept them, they would end up haunting him,  and then one day he’d go crazy.

 

It was a bliss to kiss her. His mind had finally shut up, and he could feel himself drowning in the endless ocean of pleasure that she was. Molly’s scent was invading him, her body subtly moving under the palms of his hands. He wanted her to belong to him, wanted to claim her, wanted to make her stay by his side forever. But after she asked him what he was doing, his mind took over again, following his standard thinking process. And just like that he had fucked up once again, Molly was gone, and he was feeling empty.

 

He had stayed in the kitchen for a little longer, absentmindedly twisting in his hands the cup of coffee that she had made for him. All those feelings were too complicated for him, they didn’t follow the common laws of sense, and he was helpless when it came to understanding them.

 

Sherlock went upstairs. Mrs. Hudson had prepared the room for him. But on his way there he  heard someone crying. It was coming from one of the other rooms. . He stopped and listened more carefully.

 

It was Molly.

 

She wasn’t crying per se. It sounded more like she was being  haunted by a nightmare. He hesitated for a moment before opening the door to Molly’s room.

 

She was tossing and turning, the sheets were crumpled, and she was breathing heavily. Molly frowned, let out a heavy groan, and Sherlock noticed the tears running down her cheeks. He closed the door behind him and rushed to her bedside, to lie next to her and hug her tightly.

 

“Molly, Molly, wake up. You are having a nightmare .” he whispered. He sensed her body relaxing in his arms.

 

“Sherlock…” she said in her sleep.

 

“Molly, it’s all right, you are safe, I’ll take care of everything, I promise.” He was fumbling with words now, not really understanding what he was promising her. He just wanted her to calm down, and he was ready to give everything he had if necessary.

 

Molly’s breaths evened a few minutes later and she relaxed completely. They were lying next to each other. He could smell her hair and skin. The stimulus  soothed him, made him close his eyes and drift off to sleep. He hadn’t slept for almost a week now, and his body was desperate for some rest. And, finally, here, in a small cottage in the north of Scotland, he let himself relax. He was holding Molly in his arms and knew that she would be safe if he stayed with her.

 

                                                                                                                      ***

 

She woke up abruptly.

 

It had become a regular situation for her those days. After the explosion, she had hoped that she would wear herself out taking care of Rosie and helping Mrs. Hudson with the household. She had hoped that she would be tired enough in the evenings to not have any dreams at nights. Well, most of the time she was but, unfortunately, it had not always been the case. Sometimes the dreams came when she wasn’t too tired.  Drastic dreams of explosions and blood, of people crying and dying around her. She tried to help the victims, but there were too many of them and she couldn’t save them all. On nights like that she woke up in a cold sweat, exhausted and scared, alone in her room. On nights like that she just wanted to die.

 

That night she had a nightmare again. She remembered almost waking up from it, but then the dream suddenly changed, became somehow lighter and more bearable, and she slept until the morning without waking up once. However, she was still  exhausted when her eyes opened, and the familiar urge to die was there with her.

 

It was dark outside, and she felt it again, this hole in her defenses. At that moment she wasn’t strong enough to live on, she wanted to end it all as soon as possible. But this desire to die wasn’t the worst part of it all. The worst part was that, if she was completely honest with herself, she had once hoped there would be someone who would come and save her from her loneliness in the end. But she knew perfectly well that there would be no one there for her, and it was making everything even more unbearable.

 

However, something was off this morning when she opened her eyes. She didn’t realized what was so different at first, but then she noticed that her bed had felt warmer than usual. After several more seconds she felt that someone else was lying in her bed, next to her. And they were  hugging her from behind.

 

She would have been scared if the man hugging her hadn’t smelled so familiar. She had never been able to tell what Sherlock smelled of exactly, but they had spent so much time together in the lab at Barts that she just knew it was him. She wanted to jump out of bed at first, yell at him and tell him to get out, but then she felt this loneliness again and realized that this time she was too tired to fight. Maybe, just maybe, she could use him too this time. Maybe she could pretend that they were a thing, not even something romantic. But real friends, maybe? And perhaps she could pretend that he had come to her room to save her from her nightmares.

 

Molly closed her eyes and felt them watering. She inhaled his scent once more and then drifted back to sleep.

 

                                                                                                                        ***

 

The following morning she woke up alone, much later than usual. The events of the past day came back to her in a blur. Had Sherlock kissed her the day before? Had he really been there, in her bed with her afterwards, or had she dreamt about it? Why had he stayed and spent the night by her side? And where was he at the moment?

 

She heard a noise coming from the floor below. It seemed that everyone was  up.Mrs. Hudson probably was baking scones. Sighing, Molly dragged herself out of the bed.

 

She had been right assuming that Mrs. Hudson was baking. The kitchen was filled with the delightful smell of pastries, and Molly smiled when she saw Rosie reaching to get a scone out of her father’s mouth.

 

“She will grow up to have a  sweet tooth,” she said, greeting everyone.

 

Molly saw that Sherlock give  her a look before he turned his attention back to his phone.

 

“Good morning, Molly.” he greeted her without looking at her. No matter what had happened the night before, he was still same old Sherlock.  That made her angry for a second, before she decided she was not going to waste her energy on this. It wasn’t worth it anyway. He’d already told her that he hadn’t wanted to kiss her. He made himself perfectly clear, so why would she bother? Of course, these thoughts didn’t make her much happier, but John was also there  with Sherlock, and that made Rosie happy. Molly was glad to see her goddaughter smiling, and that was all that mattered.

 

“I guess I can’t fight her anymore.” John sighed, looking down at her daughter. “She is stubborn, just like her mother was.”

 

Hearing John mention Mary made everyone fall silent, but after a few minutes a new batch of scones was ready and out of the oven, and so everything went back to normal.

 

“How long are you planning to stay?” Molly asked, sipping her coffee.

 

“John will have to go tomorrow. His presence is required in London, but he wanted to see Rosamund and we decided that it was fine to make a small break,” Sherlock explained.

 

“Oh, really? It’s good to know. You could have called, though. Mycroft’s got my number,” Molly tried her best not to sound too sarcastic.

 

John gave her a guilty look, and she decided that, for Rosie’s sake, she would behave civilly with him. At that very moment the girl pressed her cheek to her father’s chin and threw her little arms around John’s neck.

 

“Dadaaa…” Rosie cooed.

 

The sight made Molly’s eyes water. She looked away from father and daughter, fearing that she would burst into tears in front of everybody. John huggedRosie to himself tightly.

 

“Yes, darling, I missed you too.” he said. “I promise you, I’ll be home with you soon and we will make up for all the time that we’ve spent apart..”

 

That was too much for Molly. She didn’t understand what she was thinking at the moment. She was happy for Rosie, of course, and she really hoped that John would keep his word. But could it be true? Would he finally come to his senses? She still didn’t trust the man, but that was not the worst thing she had to say about it.

 

The worst was she had felt envious when she saw Rosie hugging her father. Molly couldn’t blame the girl, of course, but she had been there for her all the time. She was the one that had spent sleepless nights near her bed when the girl was sick, She was the one that had looked after her when no one else could. But it was John, John, who was always absent from Rosie’s life, that had brought such a bright smile to the girl’s face. Molly would never be able to be that important to Rosie, and she was furious and desperate about it. She hated herself for thinking like that, but she just couldn’t fight it.

 

“So, you two are going away tomorrow?” she asked Sherlock. She was trying to think about something else.

 

“Not really, Molly. John is going back to London, but I will spend the next week here, or maybe I will be staying for two full weeks.  I need to be away from London for a couple of days, and Mycroft’s people have made sure that this place is completely safe. So I will stay here and play the role of your editor from Edinburgh who has come here to see how your work on the book is going.”

 

Molly was really annoyed.

 

“Is it really necessary?” she asked angrily.

 

“Yes, Molly, yes, it is.”

 

“Oh, how wonderful!” Mrs. Hudson exclaimed. “I am so glad that  you will stay with us, Sherlock! I missed you so much, darling!”

 

And that was how everything was decided.

 

                                                                                                                           ***

 

John left early in the morning the following day, leaving Sherlock with Rosie. He hadn’t gone to sleep that night, going over the case in his mind a thousand times. They were very close to the head of the group now, and soon it would all be over. He had told himself that he needed to take a break in Scotland to collect his thoughts. He’d been telling himself that that was the only reason he had gone to Scrabster. But the longer it went on, the less he could lie to himself. He desperately wanted to have Molly close to him. The last few days in London he had caught himself on the way to Barts more than once, heading there longing for her company. He had tried to convince himself that it was the laboratory’s atmosphere that brought him to the hospital so often, that it helped him think and understand things better, but it had also been a lie. Here, in Scrabster, he could see especially clearly how much he had missed Molly.

 

She had changed since Sherrinford, and he couldn’t ignore it any longer. He realized that these changes were inevitable, and so he accepted them. After all, he had been testing her patience for much longer than it was acceptable. Her current bitterness and coldness had been hurting him, he realized that now, but he was ready to redeem himself. But there had also been something in Molly that he couldn’t understand and that concerned him greatly. He had tried to deduce her intentions, but failed. It was like a stonewall was now standing between them. She was hidden behind it, and he couldn’t reach her, couldn’t read her, couldn’t understand her intentions.

 

She had had a nightmare the day before, how hadn’t  he known she was having nightmares? He felt guilty for not being there for her for so long, but he still didn’t know how to approach her now.

 

Molly woke up earlier than Mrs. Hudson that day and when she walked into the kitchen she smiled brightly at Rosie, who was in Sherlock’s arms,. Rosamund reached her little hands towards her godmother and Sherlock handed the girl to Molly.

 

“Good morning, darling! How are you today?” Molly greeted Rosie tenderly. “Hello, Sherlock.” she added, addressing him.

 

There wasn’t anger in her greeting, but there wasn’t any warmth either, and it hurt him again.

 

“John left before she woke up. I fed her.” He told Molly. “I think we could take her for a walk, it’s very sunny outside today. If you don’t mind, of course.”

 

It annoyed him greatly that he actually hoped she would agree to his suggestion. Caring so much was so hard, so painful, but he couldn’t fight it.

 

Molly hesitated for a moment before she answered.

 

“Sure, why not? She’s spent two days at home because of the bad weather we were having. Mycroft had to entertain her quite a lot the last time he was here.

“Mycroft was here? What on Earth for?” he didn’t know his brother had paid Molly a visit, and for some reason that made him really angry.

 

“Well, he has been coming almost every other day, actually.” Molly explained, not paying any attention to the changes in Sherlock’s tone. “He was actually the one who kept informing me about how the case was progressing. It was also nice to know that you and John were fine. John didn’t bother to call, you see. And you… Well you actually never call.”

 

He was feeling guilty. Again. It had actually been quite hard to stay around Molly lately. Too many hidden feelings were brought to the surface by her presence,and they made him angry. Guilt was one of those emotions, and it set him off easily. Anger was the best of the coping mechanisms he had developed during the years he’d been suppressing everything he felt. It had always been too easy to get angry and destroy the opponent with harsh deductions. But he couldn’t do it to Molly anymore. He had to try for her sake.

 

“I’m sorry, Molly,” he managed to say, and all of a sudden his anger was washed away from his chest by that simple action.

 

He had already experienced this _Molly effect_ once, at that dreadful Christmas party all those years ago. He couldn’t recall the exact feelings from then, but he remembered how much better apologizing  had made him feel. He hadn’t felt completely fine, but he had felt definitely better. And at that moment, there, in Scrabster, he felt better as well.

 

Molly looked surprised.

 

“You are?” she asked suspiciously.

 

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

 

She looked exhausted. It seemed she didn’t have enough strength to question him, and that was probably why she decided to drop it and went to get ready for a walk.

 

They were strolling down the street towards the playground in silence. Sherlock had been looking at Molly from time to time, but she didn’t seem to pay him any attention at all. Her eyes were always looking straight ahead of the path they were taking.

 

“Molly,” he finally called her name. “You had a nightmare last night.”

 

He heard her gasp before she turned her head to him. She looked slightly lost.

 

“I did…”

 

“What… What was it about?”

 

“Why?” she turned away from him again.

 

“Do you have them often?”

 

She didn’t answer for a while.

 

“Quite often,” she finally whispered, and he felt his heart sank. “It’s… It’s usually about the explosion.”

 

He had to take several deep breaths before question her further.

 

“I never… I never asked you about it. Can I do it now?”

 

He realized at that very moment that she was trying her best to look indifferent.

 

“Ask away.”

 

“How did it happen?”

 

Molly closed her eyes for a second before she answered his question. She told him everything about the attack, explained how she carried Rosie out of the building, trying to keep her safe. She also told him about the accident with the car and about how Mycroft had saved her life that day. Mycroft’s actions surprised him a bit, but he was still grateful to his brother for saving Molly. By the end of her story, she was fighting tears. Sherlock was in no better condition.

 

“Molly…” he put his arm on her shoulder, noticing with a slight feeling of relief that she didn’t pull away from him when he touched her.

 

“I dream about it often nowadays,” she admitted.

 

He cupped her chin in his hand and made her look him in the eyes. She seemed surprised by this action, but didn’t resist it, so Sherlock put his other hand on her shoulder. She gasped at the contact.

 

“Molly… I’m sorry… I’m so very sorry,” he whispered. “I know I don’t deserve it, but if you can, please forgive me.”

 

He felt the tears starting to run down his cheeks, but he didn’t care. Molly looked at him in astonishment.

 

“Why do you need my forgiveness?” she finally asked, leaving Sherlock speechless.

 

 _“Does she consider herself worthless?”_ he asked himself . “ _Of course she does, you made sure of that!”_

 

All of a sudden he understood in all clarity how Molly felt, and the realization punched him straight in the gut. Molly was lonely and unhappy. She was lonely and unhappy, and he had always taken her for granted, not even bothering to check on her or to even ask her properly about how she was doing. He hated himself for that so much that, had somebody asked him to open his veins with a dull knife and give away all his blood to make Molly just slightly happier, he would have agreed to it without hesitation.

 

Her fingers wiped a tear from his cheeks.

 

“Don’t cry, Sherlock,” she whispered very quietly. “Please, don’t cry.”

 

If several years later someone asked him when it was that he realized he loved Molly Hooper, he would recall this moment. Even when she was the one that had suffered most,  she still cared for him. He felt a warm wave of adoration rushing over him. The sensation helped him understand a few simple facts: first of all, he was ready to worship this woman, he was ready to kiss the ground she walked on, and he was ready to kill for her, to sacrifice his life for her, if that was what it took for her to be happy. Secondly, he couldn’t let her go. He pulled her closer and touched her forehead with his lips.

 

“Molly…” he whispered, not removing his mouth from her. “I…”

 

At that very moment, they heard a cry from Rosie, who was in the playground.

 

Immediately, Molly pulled back from Sherlock and rushed to the girl, who was sitting on the ground, tears running down her chubby cheeks. Sherlock was running right behind her. Rosie must had fallen down from the little bench she had been climbing. There was no visible damage, but the girl was probably frightened by the fall.

 

“Hush, darling,” Molly soothed her. “Everything’s fine, I’ve got you now.”

 

She was holding Rosie close to herself, and Sherlock noticed that she quickly started to calm down once in Molly’s arms.

 

After a little while they decided to head home. It was then when Sherlock heard Rosie saying a word that made his heart skip a beat.

 

“Mommy!” she said, reaching out for Molly, whose face turned as pale as a sheet of paper. “Mommy!”

 

It seemed that Molly couldn’t speak. She pressed Rosie to her chest, unable to keep the tears from falling.

 

“Darling….” She sobbed. “My darling girl.”

 

Sherlock couldn’t take it anymore. For the first time in his life he was openly crying.

At home, Mrs. Hudson was surprised to find them both sobbing with a smiling Rosie in Molly’s arms. Her surprise didn’t last long, however, because Rosie kept repeating this newly learned word every time she saw Molly’s face.

 

After they put the girl to sleep, the three of them sat in the kitchen and quietly drank from their cups of tea.

 

“My God, she must have heard the word on the playground and assumed that I was her mother, as long as there was no one else around to play that role… How do I explain everything to her now?” Molly whispered.

 

“Well, it seems that Rosie is the cleverest person around here, after all.” Mrs. Hudson finally chuckled after several more minutes of silence passed.

 

“Mrs. Hudson, please!” Molly exclaimed.

 

“Oh, don’t _please_ me, young lady!” Mrs. Hudson frowned. “You are doing for her everything a mother would do! You love her and care for her. She loves you as well. So, I see no problem here at all!”

 

“But I am not her mother. Her mother died and she’ll never know her. It’s unfair to Mary… All this _mother_ thing!”

 

“It’s unfair to Rosie to deny her the opportunity of having a mother! Family is a matter of choice sometimes! You should have understood that by now, Molly dear! I mean, with this little crazy family we have here all together.”

 

Molly had tried to object, tried to tell Mrs. Hudson that she wasn’t part of this family, but the older woman didn’t give her such an opportunity.

 

“Hush now! I am going to take a nap now, I might have overdone my morning yoga exercises!”

And with that she went to her room and left Molly and Sherlock alone in the kitchen.

 

“Mrs. Hudson is right, you know.” Sherlock said after a while.

 

Molly raised her eyebrows at him, and then she found herself frowning.

“How is she right, Sherlock? I will never replace Mary in Rosie’s life.”

 

“No, you won’t. Because Mary should not be replaced. However, Rosie needs a mother. And you are the best person to act like one.”

 

“John will never let his daughter call me that. He’ll get upset and take Rosie from me!”

 

“I think that John has lost his right to have a voice on this matter, Molly.” Sherlock said harshly. “You’ve managed to take Mary’s place because you know how much Rosie needs a mother right now. If I have a voice here, and I think that as Rosie’s godfather I do have one, I would take Rosie’s side. After all, John hasn’t done anything to be considered a good father lately. He is my friend, of course, but I can’t take his side this time. I guess that even I have done more for Rosie than her own father has, don’t you think?”

 

She was crying again, but her eyes widened in surprise when Sherlock got up from his chair and kneeled on the floor beside hers.

 

“Molly, look at me.” She raised her eyes to face him. “John and I… We have both fucked up in our own personal ways. I admit it now, and I will admit it a thousand times if necessary. But you… You are perfect, Molly.”

 

She gasped, her mouth agape. Unconsciously, she leaned towards him, and for several seconds their faces were so close that he could feel her warm breath on his skin. Then, as if she’d remembered herself, she pulled away from him, frowning.

 

“What do you need, Sherlock?” Molly asked, squinting her eyes at him. “Why are you telling me this? You know perfectly well that it’s not true. Why lying? What do you need?!”

 

He was bewildered for a second, unable to understand what she was asking him. Then it struck him. “ _Of course she won’t believe you, you bloody moron!”_

 

“I don’t need anything, Molly” he sighed. “I only need you to believe me. I need you to believe me and forgive me someday.”

 

She stayed still for a moment before she got up from the table.

 

“I don’t... I don’t trust you, Sherlock. And even if you really mean what you are saying, I find it hard to believe _you_.”

 

She didn’t let him say anything else. She walked away from the kitchen. Mrs. Hudson woke up shortly after, and she brought Rosie down from her room. Molly joined them and helped Mrs. Hudson take care of the little girl. By the time Molly went to her bedroom that night, she and Sherlock had not said another word to each other.

He watched her leave for her room, his heart aching badly. She looked so sad. He replayed their conversation in his mind.

 

 _“I don’t... I don’t trust you, Sherlock. And even if you really mean what you are saying, I find it hard to believe_ you _.”_

 

He didn’t know which part of what she had said hurt him more.

 

“I’m worried about her,” he heard Mrs. Hudson say.

 

He looked at the old lady inquiringly.

 

“Oh, I don’t know what it is exactly, dear. But something seems off.”

The next few days went by quite calmly. Sherlock helped Molly and Mrs. Hudson with Rosie, and two women managed to get a bit more time for themselves. Mrs. Hudson was making friends quite quickly and, probably due to her former husband’s past, had no problem with playing her role and staying within the lines of their perfectly rehearsed charade. Those days, she spent a lot of time visiting her new friends in town. .

 

Molly had no desire to socialize. She was obviously trying her best to avoid Sherlock -  that’s why she went away from the cottage as often as possible, which made him nervous. He was falling for her harder and harder every day, and his need to know if she was alright was almost unbearable. But he gave her some space, he knew he had to. That was why he hadn’t tried to chase after her, why he hadn’t been stalking her when she was away. He was trying his best to give her the space she wanted.

 

Until one day he couldn’t do it anymore.

 

It had been Mrs. Hudson’s turn to look after Rosie, so Molly had gone out  once again. She usually stayed outside for an hour or an hour and a half before going back home to take a hot bath, but this time she’d been away for more than three hours and Sherlock was going crazy. He knew that Mycroft had people watching Molly, but he had to check himself, he had to make sure she was alright.

 

He contacted one of the men from the surveillance squad to ask him which way Molly had gone. That’s how he now found himself standing on the cliff, facing the sea and feeling the wind trying to freeze him to the bones. It was very cold, but the sight was breathtaking. He’d traveled a lot in his life, especially during all those years when he’d been bringing down Moriarty’s web, and he had always loved the sea. Northern seas were his favorites, and he had often spent his rare free moments sitting on the seashore. It was something he liked doing at every chance he could get. He never could take his eyes off the waves that hit the shore. He would probably stay there longer if it wasn’t for Molly, but he had gone there for her, and there she was, sitting on the ground and watching the sea from the cliff. He rushed to her, and the closer he got to her the more obvious it was that Molly was shuddering. She, however, seemed to be in some sort of deep trance because she didn’t even notice Sherlock was approaching her.

 

“Molly!” He cried out, and she turned her head to him very slowly before turning it back to the sea.

He put off his coat and wrapped it around her small frame. “You are freezing!” He cried, trying to embrace her to help her get warm.

 

“It’s so beautiful… So powerful,” she whispered, looking at the waves below them.

 

He was keeping her near him, trying to cover as much of her body as he could with his own.

 

“I wish I were as powerful as this sea,” she said then. “I would be able to cope with anything, I would be so strong… Stronger than the circumstances, stronger than John... Stronger than you, Sherlock.”

 

He pressed her even more tightly to his body then, and he felt that she was still shivering violently.

 

“You are already stronger than me, stronger than John, stronger than Mycroft, stronger than anyone else, Molly,” he whispered into her hair. “You are the strongest person I know.”

 

They were sitting on the cliff together, Molly in Sherlock’s arms, both of them unable to drive their eyes away from the roaring sea below them.

 

“I love this place so much,” she told him after a while. “I should have probably tried to find a job in Edinburgh after I graduated.”

 

He felt panic raising in him at the thought of her leaving London and him behind.

 

“Do you… Do you still want to leave?” he asked.

 

“No.” He could hardly see her face, but he could tell that she was smiling sadly. “No, London has consumed me. I’ve given it all I had. I have nothing left to move to Scotland with.”

 

He should had felt calmer then, when she said that, but for some reason her words made him even more nervous. He couldn’t read her, couldn’t realize what it was that she was keeping behind her words, so he held her closer to himself, trying his best to merge with her.

 

She didn’t move away, so he turned his head a bit to be able to see her eyes. He watched her face, admiring the soft brown of her irises.

 

“Molly,” he whispered.

 

It was then when she seemed to realize what was going on. She gasped, pulled away from him and stood on her feet, leaving him sitting on the ground.

 

“We should get going,” she frowned, and then she headed in the direction to their cottage, leaving him sitting there, confused. Leaving him behind her.

 

Molly went to sleep early that day. Mrs. Hudson stayed with Sherlock for some time, but Rosie also needed to rest, and so he finally was left alone in the kitchen when Mrs Hudson went to help Rosie with her bedtime routine.

 

He tried to gather his thoughts together, pacing the room back and forth for a couple of hours. He tried to _think,_ but it was all in vain. The following morning he wouldn’t remember how he had ended up at Molly’s door. It hadn’t been his intention to stay there at first, but, as he walked  towards his bedroom he heard her moaning in her sleep again and couldn’t stay away. He opened the thin door quickly and entered the room.

Molly was definitely having a nightmare. She looked the same way as she had looked the first time he had found her tossing and turning in her bed. The sight torn his heart apart. Willing to soothe her pain, he climbed into her bed and pressed her to his body, sensing her tension fading away immediately. She hadn’t asked him about the last time he had been in her bed. It had surprised him at first, but then he realized that she hadn’t still been sure that it hadn’t been a dream.

 

This time, however, she woke up with a start.

 

“Sherlock!” She whispered, pulling slightly away. “What are you doing here? Please, leave!” Her voice sounded weak, and once again he felt the urge to protect her, to keep her calm and happy.

 

“Molly,” he begged. “You were having a nightmare again. Please... Please, let me stay. I will leave in the morning before you wake up, if you want.”

 

“I must be dreaming...” she whispered.

 

“Think anything you want, but let me stay here now. Please.”

 

She was silent for some time.

 

“Ok, I don’t have enough strength to fight you anyway. Just remember that I have nothing to help you with, Sherlock.”

 

“Molly... Sleep. Please, you need rest,” he pleaded, feeling hurt by her words again.

He didn’t sleep that night. So scared he had been of his newfound emotions before, and now the only thing that could soothe him was the feeling of a sleeping Molly by his side. He couldn’t resist it, or her, anymore.

 

The next two days passed by quietly. After he stayed in her bed for the night, Molly didn’t try to discuss it with him, and he was fine with that. His feelings towards her were clearer than ever to him, but he still couldn’t express them with words. That’s why he had chosen to act on them instead of trying to talk about them.

 

He went to her room the following night.  He was terrified she would ask him to leave, but for some reason she didn’t. Quietly, he laid down next to her and pulled her closer. This time she knew what was coming, so she wasn’t surprised. Instead of resisting him, Molly snuggled closer to him and after a few minutes she was soundly and peacefully asleep.

 

Two more nights had passed like that before Molly finally decided to talk to him about their new situation. Mrs. Hudson had taken Rosie to the playground and Sherlock and Molly were alone in the cottage.

 

“Sherlock,” she called, and he realized that her voice sounded more tender than usual. “I... I wanted to thank you for... for staying with me these past two nights. I haven’t slept so well for a long time. It’s... It’s actually a nice distraction.”

 

She sounded so sad that he couldn’t contain himself. In two swift steps he was near her, taking her face in his hands.

 

“Molly...” he whispered.

 

She didn’t pull away this time. Molly was so small compared to him that she had to raise her head to see his face. Their eyes met, and he caught a glimpse of doubt in her gaze. Trying to help her fight it, he claimed her lips.

 

Kissing her was bliss. He felt her body responding to him. It seemed that every cell in her body  started to tremble when he kissed her.

 

“Sherlock...” she whispered.

 

“Molly, please, don’t doubt me,” he begged, and she finally gave up.

 

She responded to his kiss, deepening it and claiming his lips as eagerly as he had claimed hers just a few minutes before.

 

 _“Good thing that Mrs. Hudson has taken Rosie to the playground,”_ he thought.

 

He pressed her to himself, trying to become one with her. He felt her hand in his pants, moving tenderly towards his cock.

 

He reached for her breast under the simple t-shirt she was wearing, groaning loudly after he caught her nipples in his fingers. She seemed to like it when he touched her like that because she moaned loudly each time he strickened her breast with his fingers.

 

She stroked his cock gently a couple of times, and he felt himself hardening even more. The feeling was overwhelming. Molly hadn’t done anything special, but his body was responding to hers in the most marvelous and wanton way. Flames had surged between them, but when she tried to pull down his pants he stopped her.

 

“Molly, stop, not here, please. I want... I want to do it right.”

 

She seemed surprised with his words.

 

“What is right, anyway?” she whispered, biting her lower lip.

 

“At least I would like to make you more comfortable.”

 

“I am comfortable.”

“You could be better, believe me,” he chuckled.

 

Sherlock took  Molly in his arms  without breaking the kiss, and in a minute they were up in her room where he laid her on the bed and placed himself on top of her.

 

“Sherlock,” she hissed. “Take me. Take me right now!”

 

She couldn’t find any better words to encourage him. There would be time to explore one another later, but at that moment all he wanted was to be inside her. He ripped her pants and knickers off before placing himself in front of her opening.

 

“Molly?” he asked, forcing himself to stop and look her in the eyes.

 

She simply nodded, and so he immediately entered her, stretching her with his cock. She was tiny and tight, and he had to remind himself not to move too quickly if he wanted to avoid hurting her.

 

She was heaven the he had never believed in before. Her movements were simple, but he had to stop himself after each thrust to not come too soon. They found their pace, and with her every movement she brought him closer and closer to the edge.

 

“Molly...” he groaned “Molly.”

 

Suddenly, she came, squeezing her inner muscles tightly around him. He had no other option but to follow her with her name on his lips.

 

He’d heard John, Mrs. Hudson, Molly or even Greg talk about soulmates so many times, but it was in that very moment that he believed in them himself. He had felt so alone without her, so empty, so broken, but in that very moment, feeling Molly all around him, he felt absolutely whole.

 

“Molly, I...” he tried to tell her he loved her, but orgasmic bliss stopped his words.

 

 _“Later”,_ he thought. “ _I’ll tell her later.”_

 

They kissed some more after they both came, with Sherlock still buried inside her. He was gathering all the information he could from her body, remembering all the ways she had responded to the movements of his tongue inside her mouth.

 

“Sherlock,” she said after they pulled themselves together. “I’m so thirsty...”

 

They went down to the kitchen, Sherlock thanking whatever higher powers existed for the fact that Mrs. Hudson was still out with Rosie. Molly was finally smiling, and at this very moment he couldn’t have loved her more.

 

“Do you want some?” she asked him as she got herself a glass of water.

 

“I’m fine, thank you, Molly,” he answered, marveling at her curves and all the perfect imperfections he was noticing under the clothes she had put on after they finished making love.

 

He had been able to see it all before, of course, but after seeing her naked body now he could picture every inch of her ivory skin under the cotton fabric of her t-shirt, and it was given him ideas.

 

She was wonderful. She was his. He couldn’t have asked for more.

 

“I hope I am not interfering with anything,” he suddenly heard a voice saying.

 

Molly turned to the kitchen door, terrified.

 

“Good morning, Mr. Holmes,” Irene Adler said, smiling slyly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr. I am polinaduntonwrites there.


	9. I will be the first one to come for you should something happen with Molly Hooper.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irene Adler is always a problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you, my darling beta comeaftermejackrobinson for your patience. I can see how you roll your eyes editing my texts :)

****

 

**Chapter 9.**

 

**I will be the first one to come for you should something happen with Molly Hooper.**

 

Molly began shaking. What was that woman doing there? Was she dreaming again? She probably was, because this whole situation definitely looked like one of her nightmares.

“Oh, Mr. Holmes… I didn’t know you were so greedy for… intimacy. I sometimes wonder where the Sherlock I met all those years ago disappeared to.” He had gotten up on his feet and Irene was now moving around him like a lazy cat. “I remember how stoic you were in my presence when we first met. I wasn’t able to crack you back then. And now, look at you, a gorgeous man, looking for a good shag for a stress-release. I couldn’t be prouder of you, Mr. Holmes. You managed to live without sex for years, and now it’s been only… how many days? Oh, yes, ten days since we were together. And, here you are, craving the warm, wet body of a woman again. Such a good development, don’t you think so, Miss Hooper?” Irene gave Molly a short, sly look. “I haven’t been available for Mr. Holmes lately, you see. Thank you for your support. I wouldn’t like to face him in one of his moods. It takes some time to… heat him up when that’s the case, you know.”

 

Irene then gave her one more smile and Molly’s heart sank. Ten days? It had been just ten days since he had shagged Irene Adler? So that meant Sherlock’s relationship with Irene hadn’t stopped when Molly left the town. They had had sex again, Irene had left for some time and then when he had found himself in need for some emotional release he had gone to Scotland and shagged her into the mattress a couple of days after he had been with another woman. Oh, hadn’t she been convenient?

 

She felt her soul shattering. The pain was so unbearable that it felt like every cell in her body was being stabbed. And for some reason the pain wouldn’t stop, not even for a second.

 

Molly couldn’t define the look on Sherlock’s face. He tried to say something, but she spoke first.

 

“Where are Rosie and Mrs. Hudson?” she asked sternly. “If she is here”, she said, pointing at Adler, “hasn’t this place been compromised then?”

 

Thoughts of Rosie helped her maintain her composure.

 

The door to the cottage opened and Mrs. Hudson entered with Rosie in her arms. Mycroft followed. It seemed he had been informed of the situation. Molly was glad that Sherlock and she had both had time to put their clothes on before they came down to the kitchen.

 

“Miss Hooper is right, Sherlock,” he said, and Molly felt surprisingly hurt by the fact he hadn’t called her by her first name. “We need to move everyone from this place as soon as possible. If Miss Adler managed to find it, it means it has been compromised. Miss Hooper, will you please help Mrs. Hudson collect the things you’ll be taking with you?”

 

“Oh, but there’s really no need, Mr. Holmes,” Irene smiled. “I would have never found this place if Sherlock hadn’t sent me the town’s coordinates. I guess he wanted to meet me outside this place, but when you know in which town you have to look for, it gets easier to find the exact place. But I wouldn’t have found Scrabster without Sherlock’s assistance. And you can trust me, this place is the most secure location you have at the moment. I would definitely leave these precious ladies here, if I were you.”

 

For a second Molly though she’d noticed a glimpse of fury on Mycroft’s face, but when he spoke again he seemed to be as calm as usual.

 

“Is that so?” he asked. “Well then… I guess Miss Adler is right. But I’ll have to double the amount of men guarding the cottage, nevertheless. So, Sherlock, will you explain why exactly you have decided to give the address of the most secure place in England to one of the most dangerous  criminals this country has ever known?”

 

Molly saw Sherlock  roll his eyes. She thought about how differently he had looked just 15 minutes before. He was annoyed now, it was the same Sherlock she’d known for years, the one who had manipulated her, the one that had humiliated her at the Christmas party in front of so many people. It was the Sherlock that had used her body for a quick, convenient fuck less than an hour before. She felt sick of herself and wanted to go take shower and wash his smell off her body. But she stayed. She stayed because there was Rosie to look after, and Molly needed to know what the situation was.

 

“I haven’t compromised anything, Mycroft. Irene proved that she was trustworthy, and my meeting with her was required to discuss the final stage of our operation. I asked her to contact me as soon as she was ready, which she did. I got a message from her yesterday evening and sent her the aforementioned coordinates. I, however, wasn’t expecting  her to come here before tomorrow.”

 

“Oh, but I’ve missed you so much, darling,” Irene smiled at him slyly, and Molly felt the urge to vomit. “I thought we could spend some time together before we leave Scotland. It’s so beautiful here, don’t you think? I, however, didn’t expect to find you in Miss Hooper’s arms when I came. You were so vocal with her, you know, I almost got jealous.”

 

Had Molly not been frozen to the place where she stood( she was, after all, shocked by everything that was happening) , she would have run away from the kitchen, go to the seashore and throw herself off the cliff. She’d noticed the worried look on Mycroft’s face before she heard Sherlock speaking.

 

“We don’t have time for any of it now, Irene. What do you have for us?”

“Oh, what a pity, darling… Well, if you are so eager to proceed with the case, you will be interested to know I’ve spotted the place where our enemy has established their base, just as we had discussed before we… parted.” Irene’s voice sounded like a purr, while Molly’s body was getting colder and colder with every word she heard from that woman. How many more times would Adler insinuate that she had had sex with Sherlock? Was it really so necessary? It was hard for Molly to breathe, she wanted to curl up in a ball and die right where she was standing. “They have a big gathering in three days.” Irene continued. “It would be better to head to London as soon as we’re done discussing the details. Also, I think I wouldn’t mind a cup of tea. Will you make me one, Molly?”

 

Molly didn’t get the chance to answer because Mrs. Hudson, who had been watching the whole scene from the corner of the kitchen, choose that moment to interrupt the conversation.

 

“Oh, you will get nothing from us, you mardy cow! Get the hell out of here!” the old nice lady, Molly knew was looking like a crazy banshee now, and for a second Molly thought that Mrs. Hudson would throw herself at Irene. “Mycroft! Get her out of here now! I am sure you have another place where you can discuss your plans!”

 

“You are completely right, Mrs. Hudson,” Mycroft nodded curtly.  “I am terribly sorry for all the inconvenience you’ve experienced today. Please be sure that you are safe while inside this house. But considering the current situation I would ask you to stay here and avoid going  outside. Please, pack your bags, Sherlock. We’ll discuss everything on our way back to London.”

 

Molly watched as Sherlock stood up from his chair and headed outside the kitchen. He hadn’t said a word to her, he hadn’t even looked in her direction when the whole conversation had been taking place. Irene had said she was going to have some private time with him, and he had told her that they had no time for that _now_. Now! And this Adler woman had heard them making love…

 

No, that hadn’t been lovemaking. At least not on his part. For Sherlock it had been a quick shag, only good for blowing up so steam. Stress-release, Adler had called it. And as soon as it had been over and Irene Adler had come to him, Molly had become irrelevant once again. As irrelevant as she had always been.  Sherlock hadn’t stood up for her, he hadn’t stopped Irene’s insinuations. He hadn’t even spared Molly a glance, for God’s sake! Molly had thought that she had nothing else to give him, but somehow he’d found more things to take from her. And he had taken them. He took them and left her feeling empty and devastated. And he hadn’t even cared.

 

“Molly!” Mycroft’s voice lured her out of the trance she had fallen into. It seemed he’d been calling her name several times before she reacted. Everyone had left the kitchen except for him, and so there were just the two of them there now. “Molly… I am so sorry for all of this…” He looked very upset.

She tried to smile at him, but then she remembered that Mycroft hadn’t called her by her first name during the conversation with Irene Adler. He had looked just as distant as Sherlock back then. Why was he so warm now?

 

“It’s… It’s not your fault” she managed to say, lowering her gaze to the kitchen floor.

 

“Molly, I need your help again.”

 

“With what now?”

 

“I want you to look after Rosie before we come back to get you. We will bring John with us then. Can you do it for me?”

 

There it was again! The reason behind his kindness was that he needed something from her. And there she was, starting to think that some kind of friendship had developed between them, but the truth was that when Mycroft had been talking to Sherlock and Adler he hadn’t even minded Molly. He hadn’t stood up for her either, just like Sherlock. Had he already forgotten that he’d promised to make her Rosie’s legal guardian? Now he was telling her that he would bring John around next time he went there. John would take Rosie away from her. She would be left alone. Again.

 

Molly remembered the bottle of champagne she had waiting for her at her home in London. Once it all was over, she would go back to London, hide behind closed doors, turn off her mobile phone and take the pills. She would drink the whole bottle, enjoying the taste one final time, and then she would go away forever. There was nothing holding her back here any longer. Nothing, except for Rosie for the next couple of days.

 

“Of course, Mycroft,” she smiled coldly. “Of course, I can.”

 

                                                                                                                                                 ***

 

Sherlock was looking out of the helicopter window. The landscape under him was captivating, but he wasn’t paying any attention to it. He should have deleted all unnecessary information from his mind, but he just hadn’t been able to concentrate. The sight of Molly standing there in the kitchen, looking broken… It was torturing him.  He had made a terrible mistake by not stopping himself from having sex with Irene once again when they’d still been in London. He had felt so lost and broken back then, with Molly gone, struggling against his feelings... He had tried to forget himself in Irene’s arms.

 

It had all been very simple. He had come to her, he had taken her and she had given herself to him willingly, as she always had. He had lost himself in the orgasmic sensation, but it hadn’t brought him anything except for guilt. He had tried to suppress it. He kept thinking that if he became good enough for Molly then he wouldn’t feel as guilty someday. But oh, was he wrong! Now he knew that he loved Molly, he felt it burning in every cell of his body, but the guilt you feel over what you’ve done to somebody you love so deeply was even more overwhelming than his feelings for her. It was breaking him. It was torturing him. Somehow, he had felt slightly better after Irene told Molly everything. Now they could start over, without all the lies, no need to hide anything from each other. It wasn’t as if Molly had ever hidden anything from him, but for Sherlock it was a good opportunity. A new beginning. He just had to become deserving of her forgiveness, which now seemed to be  the hardest part.

 

His original plan didn’t contemplate meeting with Irene at the cottage.  But of course she had managed to find it after he gave her the coordinates . The moment he’d seen Irene Adler standing under the threshold of the cottage kitchen, he could have easily killed the Woman for shattering his newly found happiness. But he couldn’t put Molly in danger. Had Irene known how important Molly was to him, she wouldn’t hesitate to use her against him. It wasn’t like he thought she would do it, after all he had meant it when he said that Irene was trustworthy. But you never knew with the Woman, and Molly was too precious to him. He could not afford to risk her.

 

That was why he had tried to appear indifferent to her. That was why he had had to watch Irene destroy Molly with her words, insinuating something stronger, deeper was going on between the two of them. That was why he hadn’t stood up for her. He had to finish the case first in order to go back to her later, to tell her he loved her, to tell her how sorry he was, and that he thought she was the most important person in the world, the most precious one. The only one.

 

So he had done what he had to do. He had left without even looking at Molly. She had stayed in her room, not going out to say goodbye because he left with Irene and Mycroft.

Since Irene had left Scotland on her own, Sherlock and Mycroft were alone in the helicopter. His brother’s eyes were closed, but Sherlock noticed how tense Mycroft’s jawline seemed. Mycroft hadn’t said a word to Sherlock after they finished discussing their plan, and it was obvious that his brother was trying really hard to ignore him. Sherlock didn’t mind it. After all, he still had stuff that required his entire attention. But as soon as he got his mind to focus on the case, Mycroft spoke to him.  

“Tell me, brother mine,” he said bitterly. “Tell me, after everything that has happened to you, after Sherrinford, after all these changes you’ve been through, how can you be so ignorant towards the people who care about you? How do you manage to ignore the most loyal ones of them, towards those who risked everything for you?”

 

Sherlock opened his eyes to look at his brother. Mycroft was tense and angry. Sherlock could still recall the last time he’d seen him in such condition. It was many years ago, the first time he had found him at a drug den. Mycroft hadn’t lost his composure when he was around Sherlock since then. Even in Sherrinford he had managed to stay rather calm under the circumstances. He was always the calm, rational one. His emotions were always balanced. . Until now.

 

Now his nostrils flared with his every breath, his jaw was clenched, and his quite sharp nose looked even sharper.

 

“What exactly are you talking about, Mycroft?” Sherlock asked, hoping that his brother would decide against bothering himself with giving him an explanation, hoping that he would just drop the subject for now.

 

“Oh, you know perfectly well what I am talking about, Sherlock. I don’t know exactly what is going on in that brilliant head of yours, but how stupid could you be to come to Molly after everything you’ve been doing with Miss Adler? You told me your… activities with this woman were over, that they wouldn’t happen again. But it was not the first time you were lying to me, was it? So there’s no surprise there. But to go to Molly... Can’t you see how fragile she is, Sherlock? How vulnerable she is? Can’t you see what she is up to?”

 

There was something Sherlock had been missing here, something about this situation that had been slipping from him from the very beginning.

 

Something was terribly wrong with Molly.

 

Mrs. Hudson had mentioned it to him already back in Scrabster, when she had been talking to him in the kitchen, and now his brother was trying to tell him the same thing. But Sherlock couldn’t understand. He still didn’t get it. It was so hard to figure Molly out that he was just incapable of doing so.

 

“What exactly do you mean, Mycroft?” he asked, afraid to hear the answer.

 

“Oh, you should know what I mean, Sherlock. Think about it again. And again. And then once more, if you must. Spend as much time trying to understand what the consequences of your actions towards Molly can be. Whatever you come up with, please remember one thing. I promise you, I will be the first one to come for you should something happen with Molly Hooper.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr already! I am polinaduntonwrites there :)


	10. Realization.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The case is over... or so it seems...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! Thank you for your comments on the previous chapters! Next two chapters are going to be rough, be prepared. This one is not so long, though. 
> 
> I am on a trip around the UK, so I'll update in a couple of days, as soon as I get a normal internet connection again. The fic is already written (only epilogue left), and I'll update as soon as my darling beta edits the chapters.
> 
> As always, thank you comeaftermejackrobinson for you great job with beta-reading!

****

 

**Chapter 10.**

 

**Realization.**

 

He took a careful look around the area. He was used to seeing blood and agony, especially after all those years spent in the field trying to take down Moriarty’s web. It didn’t bother him at the slightest, as long as the blood belonged to his enemies. And now it did.

 

They had destroyed them all. Some had been killed by the massive explosion. Some had died in the crossfire. And he had killed so many of them! ! John was now helping a slightly injured Greg get into an ambulance. Greg’s wounds were few compared to the ones they had inflicted upon their enemies. The case was over. They had won.

 

“Well, well, Mr. Holmes, look at you” he heard Irene’s voice behind him. “All covered in blood and not even twitching. I must say I’ve never been so aroused in my whole life. You remind me of Atlas, who decided to drop the sky from his shoulders and fight on the same side as mere mortals. Us, the women from Earth, were taught to honor our heroes, you know. And I have never dreamt of honoring somebody as much as I desire to honor you.”

 

She put the palm of her small hand  on his shoulder and looked into his eyes with a seductive expression that was so familiar to him. It had once possessed the ability to capture him, way before he even let it show. But now when he looked at her, he felt absolutely nothing. The sight of Irene no longer attracted him, his body didn’t respond to her touches, and when he looked at her he did it as if he were someone who lacked the means to understand a marvellous work of fine art. Yes, he knew she was gorgeous, but he didn’t seem to care much.

 

Irene had probably noticed his change of heart. It had only lasted a second, but he had been able to see a glimpse of disappointment in her eyes. She put her hands off his shoulders and stepped back with a sly smile on her face.

 

“I believe everything is done” he heard Mycroft say. His voice was coming from the entrance to the place where they were standing. “Well done, Sherlock. I will have to report on the status of the operation to my superiors and I am compelled to ask for your help with the details. You will be free by tomorrow morning, I assume. As for Miss Adler here… We'll, according to our initial agreement, you are free to go.” He said to Irene. “You are exempt from all charges and you can return to the territory of Great Britain on a legal basis. I hope that our paths won’t cross again any time soon.” Mycroft frowned for a moment after Irene gave him an enticing smile. “Sherlock, I’ll be waiting for you in my office. Just call the driver and he will give you a ride when you are ready. Goodbye Miss Adler.”

 

And he left without looking back at the operation scene.

 

“I believe it’s my time to say goodbye too, Irene,” Sherlock told her once they were left alone.

 

“Oh, leaving so soon? We could spend some time together, you know. I’m not in a hurry.”

 

“I think I have already done enough dealing with you. I wouldn’t like to tempt fate any longer.”

 

Sherlock frowned, and it made Irene step back from him.

 

“Oh, what a moody boy,” she tried batting her eyelashes, but it only made him  frown at her.

 

“It’s my time to leave, Irene. Goodbye,” he said turning on his heels and heading out of the area.

 

“I hope we will meet each other very soon, Mr. Holmes” she shouted after him. “Remember, I know where to find you.”

He winced at her words, remembering the first time he had sent her a text after Sherrinford.

 

 _You know where to find me._ That’s what the message had read. And she had found him that day, shortly before  Molly went to Baker Street to collect Rosie.

Molly. It was all over now. He had so much to fix, but he was ready now. In two days’ time he would go to Scrabster to collect her himself. He would beg her for forgiveness, he would explain everything to her. He would make her listen to him, no matter what it cost him.

 

“Sherlock!” John caught up with him. “Do you need me to discuss the details of the operation with Mycroft?”

 

“No, I don’t think so. You are free to go now, John, you need to have some rest.”

John looked tired and pale. It seemed he had lost some weight during the past week.

 

“Actually, I wanted to ask Mycroft to bring me to Scotland today. I want to be with Rosie after all we’ve been through lately.”

Sherlock nodded understandingly.

 

“I’ll give Mycroft a call, just give me a minute, John.”

 

Later that evening he sat in Mycroft’s parlour, sipping whiskey and going through the case in his mind. Mycroft’s people had just left to prepare a report for the authorities, and the elder Holmes brother was sitting by the fireplace on his enormous armchair.

Several minutes passed in silence until Mycroft finally spoke:

 

“So what now, Sherlock?”

He immediately understood what his brother meant.

“First of all, I will fix things with Molly.”

 

“It’s going to be really hard, brother mine.”

 

“Yes, I’m aware of it.”

 

“So your story with Miss Adler is now…”

 

“Finished. It’s finished. And I ask you not to lecture me about how it was once finished too, but then it wasn’t. I slipped up, I made a mistake. And you must already know how hard it is for me to admit to being wrong, so spare me the admonition.”

 

“It was never my intention to lecture you, Sherlock,” Mycroft said, and something like a smile touched his lips. “I will be happy if you manage to persuade Molly to trust you again. And if you don’t, I’ll try my best to help you.”

Sherlock frowned at his brother’s words.

“Mycroft…” he started, but hesitated to proceed.

 

“I guess you wanted to tell me in your own unique style that you were worried about the closeness we have developed with Miss Hopper, didn’t you?” Mycroft smirked.

 

“Yes” Sherlock hissed, feeling anger rising in him before he could stop it.

He thought about all time Mycroft and Molly had been spending together, and suddenly it was hard for him to breathe. Sweat covered his forehead and he began to feel incredibly hot. He had almost given in to the panic when he felt Mycroft’s hand on his shoulder.

“Sherlock, breathe” his brother said calmly. “There is nothing to worry about, I assure you. I have grown to care for Molly and I sincerely hope that I can call her my friend, but even if I felt something … deeper for her, I would never dream to act on it. As it happens, she loves you, only God knows for what reasons. And it makes me happy that you have finally succumbed to your feelings for her as well… It will please me greatly to see you both happy with each other. So take one more deep breath and calm down, brother mine.”

Mycroft’s words helped Sherlock calm down, somehow. The sweating and shaking stopped, and he was finally able to relax.  

“You need to rest now, Sherlock. We can finish discussing everything in the morning.”

Sherlock nodded and left for the guest bedroom that had already been prepared for him.

He slept for about fourteen hours. His exhaustion had won over him. To his surprise, Mycroft was still in the parlour when he came downstairs the following day. His brother looked worried. It was obvious he had not gone to sleep after their interaction the previous evening.  

“What’s wrong, Mycroft?” Sherlock asked, frowning.

 

“Something doesn’t fit here,” Mycroft muttered without averting his gaze from the pictures in front of him.

 

Sherlock took a look at them as well, trying to understand what was concerning his brother. After a few minutes, Mycroft pulled out a mobile phone out of his pocket, put it on speaker and dialed a number.

“Mycroft, hello!” Sherlock was surprised to hear John’s voice. “What’s… What’s up?”

 

“Mr. Watson, are you in the cottage with the ladies? Is Miss Hooper around you?” Mycroft asked John.

 

“Um… No. She is not here. And, actually,  I am already back in London… I asked your people to drive me and Rosie back home. Well, they helped me find accomodations on an evening train, to be more exact.”

 

“Why did you leave? I thought I was very clear when I told you not to leave Molly until we came to the cottage.” Mycroft sounded very angry and Sherlock was suddenly very concerned.

 

It was true. When John had asked Mycroft to help him go to Scrabster, Mycroft had asked him to stay around until they all got there. It was not like John to leave last minute without a reason. Something bad was going on.

 

Something was wrong with Molly Hooper.

 

“I… I didn’t want to leave my daughter with Molly,” John sounded angry now.

 

“Didn’t you?” Sherlock saw Mycroft’s nostrils flare in fury when he hung up on John instead of  listening to more of his excuses.

He didn’t get to ask his brother any questions because Mycroft was already calling somebody else.

 

“Anthea, who is in the cottage with Molly and Mrs. Hudson now? Where are you?”

 

“Mr. Holmes, sir” Anthea’s voice sounded slightly surprised. “Mrs. Hudson asked me to drive her to Edinburgh yesterday evening when everything was over. The surveillance people that came under  you instructions told me that you’ve asked to call off the security detail on everyone but Doctor Hooper. They gave me all the right codes when I requested them, that’s why I drove Mrs. Hudson away from Scrabster as soon as everyone from our staff left the cottage. But the team assigned for Molly’s protection should still be there with her, though. ”

 

“Anthea,” Mycroft interrupted her “I want you to call an ambulance to the cottage and I want you to go  back there yourself as soon as you can. That’s an order! Follow it quickly!”

 

“What should I tell the ambulance, Mr Holmes?”

 

“Tell them we suspect someone at the cottage attempted suicide. Woman, late thirties.” Mycroft hissed before hanging up. “Please Molly, please, stay safe” he murmured as he put his coat on.

 

“What’s going on, Mycroft?” Sherlock asked. He felt the blood in his veins getting colder by the minute.

 

“I haven’t given any orders concerning the surveillance in the cottage, Sherlock. We have a mole. Yesterday’s operation was setup. We haven’t destroyed the organization. They wanted to get to you, wanted to hit you very hard. It was not Rosie, John or Mrs. Hudson they were going after this time. They wanted to tear your heart out from your chest, and so naturally their target was Molly.”

 

“Did they… Did they kill her?” Sherlock croaked.

 

“Oh no, brother dear. Their plan was much more refined. Molly is suicidal, Sherlock. And if I am right, we have almost no time to save her now.”

 

Sherlock fell on his knees, but Mycroft stopped him from curling up on the floor by putting a strong, warm hand on his should.

“Sherlock, I need you to bring Irene Adler to me as soon as you can. Don’t let her leave town. She tricked us, and we have to stop her before it’s too late. I’ll deal with Molly, you deal with Adler.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/polinaduntonwrites). I accept prompts there.


	11. Pathetic.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, what happened to Molly?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SUICIDE ATTEMPT WARNING.
> 
> Please, be carefull!
> 
> Guys, this chapter is tought. The next one is ready, but is waiting to be edited. I wish I could tell you when exactly it is released, but it depends on my beta. Thank you comeaftermejackrobinson for editing this fic, by the way!

****

 

**Chapter 11.**

**Attempt.**

 

She was sitting  on the sofa in their living room watching Rosie play with  her toys when Anthea stepped into the room, smiling softly. Mrs. Hudson came from the kitchen with a cup of warm tea in her hands and shrieked happily.

 

“Oh, what is it, my dear? Are there any good news from our boys?”

 

Molly frowned at the mention of John and Sherlock but waited patiently for Anthea to explain the situation to them. It seemed they had been successful in finishing their mission, and so they would all soon be able to leave Scrabster. Molly was glad it was all over. Now there were only a couple of days left before she finally could put her plan into action. It wouldn’t be long until everything was over for her as well, and she felt relieved.

 

They weren’t in danger anymore, apparently. A few hours had passed, and a couple of people from Mycroft’s staff had gone to tell Anthea that Mycroft had ordered to remove all surveillance from the cottage. Everyone from the team was sent home, except the two men that had just arrived under Mycroft’s orders. Mrs. Hudson was so happy to regain her freedom that she had immediately asked Anthea to drive her to Edinburgh, where one of her old friends lived. She asked Molly if she’d be fine alone with Rosie, and the pathologist said it was okay if she wanted to leave now.  

 

A little bit later that evening someone called their door. One of Mycroft’s men opened it, and Molly came face to face with a very pale, very tired John Watson. She had to force a smile on her face when she saw him standing under the living room’s threshold.

 

“Hello, John. Is everything alright?”

 

“Greg is slightly injured, but he’ll be fine. Aside from that, everyone else is alright. It wasn’t exactly hard to bring them down.”

 

She wanted to ask him about Sherlock, but reconsidered in the end. She didn’t want to hear anything about him, she truly didn’t. Besides, what could there be for her to know? After all, if anything bad had happened to the detective, John would have already mentioned something. Besides, he had already told her everyone was fine.

 

“I‘ve missed Rosie so badly,” John finally said, and Molly fought the anger in her chest.

She would have to resist these feelings if she was planning on going away soon.

John picked up Rosie and threaded his fingers through the girl’s blonde curls.

 

“Do you want some tea, John?” Molly asked politely.

 

She wanted to have a reason to leave the room because it was just too hard to watch Rosie reaching out for her father with a bright smile on her face.

 

“Oh, yes, that’d be nice, Molly, thank you! Could I also have something to eat? I don’t really remember the last time I’ve had anything, and I am not Sherlock.”

 

“Of course!”

When she came back from the kitchen, Rosie was in John’s arms trying to feed her father one of her toys.  

“She must know that you are hungry,” Molly looked at the girl and smiled.

 

“Well, I can’t say that such an urge to feed a man won’t come in hand in the future.” John laughed. “Mary couldn’t even make a sandwich, and eating so much take-away all the time got tiring.”  

 

“But you still loved her.”

 

“I did.”

 

They both frowned. John was probably upset by his own mentions of his dead wife, and Molly was upset by memories of the talk she had had with Mycroft. _Yes,_ she thought. _You did love her, but that didn’t stop you from cheating on her._

“Listen, Molly,” John suddenly said. “I know... I know I owe you a lot. And I know I’ve been a crappy father ever since Marry died. And I am sorry I’ve put so much of my own baggage on your shoulders. I really want to change things now. I will be there for Rosie, I promise you. And I am so very sorry for... for everything...”

 

She tried her best to feel some sort of compassion for him. Everything he’d said was so right and it all sounded so nice, but for some reason she couldn’t bring herself to trust him. But she had to, didn’t she? She would be gone very soon, and she had to trust him if she was ever going to follow through with her plan. If she didn’t trust him, then she wouldn’t be able to end her life, and that was her only wish now.

 

“It’s… It’s okay, John. I know you’ve been struggling with a lot lately. I know it’s been too hard for you. I understand.” She didn’t know how she was managing,  but her voice sounded sincere. Or at least it sounded sincere to her.

“So… Um… So we are good?” John asked with hesitation.

 

“Yes” she smiled. “Yes, we are good, John.

 

He smiled at her and tried to grab a sandwich from the plate Molly had brought in from the kitchen,  but at that very moment Rosie finally noticed Molly and smiled at her. There it was, the bright, happy smile she loved so much.

“Mommy!” Rosie shrieked.

 

John froze, his sandwich forgotten.

 

“What did she say?” he hissed, looking at Molly with so much anger in his eyes that the woman shrank into the couch she was sitting on.

 

“John, it’s nothing, she just heard the word on the playground and…”

 

“Mommy!” Rosie cried once again, reaching for Molly.

 

John stood up on his feet.

 

“How could you, Molly?” he said in a low voice. “How could you do this to me… to Marry?! Telling our daughter you were her mother?! Seriously?!”

 

“John, believe me, I didn’t…” she tried to explain, but he interrupted her once again.

 

“How much more pathetic can you be, Molly? I understand that you have no family of your own. You missed your chance with Tom because you were head over heels in love with Sherlock. You probably lived in a world full of your stupid little illusions for so long that now that you have finally understood what it truly was, it’s too late to change things. It’s too late for you to hope for something, and so you just decided to… steal my family? What else did you teach my daughter? Did you tell her I was a pathetic father? Did you tell her I am not worthy of her love? I’ve noticed the way you look at me every time I leave Rosie with you. But you were glad I was doing so, weren’t you? You were happy each time. Sherlock is not interested in you, you have no friends except for those who circle around him, but lucky for you, Marry died! And you decided to take her place, didn’t you?!”

 

      

She was gasping, trying not to start sobbing. She was speechless in her pain.  

“John…” she finally managed to whisper through the tears.

 

“We are leaving! Now! Hey, man, sorry, I forgot you name…” John called for one of the men that had brought him to the cottage. “My daughter and I need to go back to London as soon as possible. Can you arrange that? If not, I could give your boss a call…”

 

“There’s no need, Mr. Watson” the man said. “The car will be ready in five minutes and we will see that you catch the evening train.”

 

And that’s how it happened. That’s how they left. Molly couldn’t stand on her feet any longer. As soon as John closed the door, she collapsed on the floor and began to cry. She howled like a wounded animal. She had thought nothing would ever compare to the pain she felt the morning she had heard that Sherlock had never stopped sleeping with Irene Adler, before they left for London. But now she knew she had been wrong. It was nothing compared to what she was feeling now. She had sent and heard Rosie desperately crying when John had taken her away from Molly. The sight of the little girl in tears was all it took to destroy whatever remained of Molly Hooper. That was the end. She had nothing. There was nothing to grab onto anymore. Nothing to help her.

 

Deep inside, some region of her mind and body where the pain was just a little bit milder, Molly felt grateful for the fact that the men from Mycroft’s staff were not in the house with her. He had left, probably went someplace where she wouldn’t see him to give her so much needed space. She couldn’t sleep that night, replaying in her mind over and over again everything that had happened, not only that evening but also during the last few weeks. She couldn’t wait any longer. She couldn’t wait until they allowed her to go back to London to put her plan in motion. She had to do it now. And if she couldn’t do it now, then she would have to do it as soon as possible.

  


The sun was rising when  Molly reached for her bag. That’s where she kept the prescription forms she had taken from Bart’s. She filled them really quickly and headed for the drug store downtown.

 

The pharmacist looked at her with suspicion, but he still sold her the pills.

 

When Molly got home she checked with the guard and told him she wanted to be alone for a while.   He didn’t seem to mind, so she headed straight to the cottage and closed the door behind her. There was no champagne here, but Molly took a bottle of whiskey she had bought for Mycroft’s visits some time before and poured herself a glass.It would have to do.

 

She ran herself a bath. The water was warm, almost soothing. The empty bottle of pills stood on the side of the tub. Molly was still sipping her whiskey. She felt the pills begin to affect her. They were working. After a few minutes, opening her eyes was just too hard. She tried to think of Sherlock, and John, even Mycroft and Mrs Hudson. She tried to think of them all for a last time. But it was the thought of Rosie that suddenly made her panic. She was on the verge of falling asleep forever when Rosie’s scared face appeared right in front of her closed eyelids.

  
  


“Mommy! Mommy!” Rosie cried. “Mommy!”

 

_Oh my God, what am I doing?! What have I done! No, no, I can’t die! Rosie needs me! Somebody, please, help me!_

 

But her eyelids were too heavy and she wasn’t able to open her eyes.

  
  


She didn’t notice the guard standing on the threshold of the bathroom and looking at her smiling.

 

When Molly stopped moving he took his mobile phone out of his trousers’ pocket and dialed a number.

 

“It’s done, ma’am. She did it” he said.

 

And then he hung up the phone and left the cottage, got into his car and drove away.

 

***

  


At first, right after Mycroft had left to save Molly, Sherlock couldn’t think. It was too much information to take in, but a minute later everything fell in its place in his mind.

 

Of course, how hadn’t he noticed it? Molly was suicidal! Molly wanted to end her own life! And he could have stopped her, he could have given her a reason to live. But he hadn’t. He should have told her he loved her, should have explained that she was needed, that he wouldn’t be able to live without her if she did such a thing. He should had told her that Irene Adler was a mistake, the greatest mistake he had ever made. But he hadn’t, and now Molly was in danger. There was a chance she was already dead, and he had done nothing to prevent it.

 

He had to focus. His mind was a mess, and he still couldn’t understand what Irene Adler had done or what her reasons had been. But Mycroft had a clearer mind, so he had to do what he’d asked of him. He had to bring Irene Adler to his brother. If she was the person behind all this, then why did she want to harm Molly? It didn’t make any sense. But Mycroft had been so sure when he’d told her that Irene meant danger, that all he had to do now was concentrate on this one task: he had to find her. And once everything was over, he would go to Molly.

 

He would be at Baker Street any minute now. He was lost in his thoughts when he felt a piece of wet cloth pressed against his face, covering his mouth and nose. The smell was sharp, and he tried to fight back, but sooner rather than later his consciousness left him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/polinaduntonwrites)


	12. I will sleep here tonight.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waht's going on and how is Molly?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Violence warning for this chapter. All violence here is towards bad people, but still, be careful, guys.
> 
> Thank you all so much for your comments and reviews. It always pleases me so greatly to recieve every single one of them.
> 
> Also, thank you so much, my darling beta comeaftermejackrobinson. I, honestly, have problems with writing in English as long as I've never done it before and all this is new to me. But with your help this fic feels so much better! Thank you! You are incredible!

****

 

**Chapter 12.**

**I will sleep here tonight.**

 

His head was buzzing so hard, it was difficult for him to hear his own ripped thoughts. He had come back to himself several minutes before, but he still felt nauseous.

 

 _Side effects of chloroform,_ he thought as he tried to look around him and take in his surroundings.

 

However, this was a complicated thing to do because his body was tied to a chair in the middle of some gloomy room, and his head was somehow fixated. He couldn’t move.

 

“I am sorry for how uncomfortable you must be feeling right now, Mr. Holmes.”

 

He heard Irene’s voice, but he couldn’t see her. At least not until she decided to stand right in front of him.

 

She looked impeccable as always. She was wearing stilettos and a tight black dress that fit her curves perfectly. Her make-up made her look as if  she was minutes away from attending to some gala-evening. He would have deemed totally possible that was what she was planning to do right after their conversation was over. , And even though Sherlock had seen her like this  so many times before, in this moment she looked menacing.

 

“Irene,” he said. His voice sounded hoarse, as he was still fighting the waves of nausea caused by the chloroform. “What is this all about?”

 

“Oh, Sherlock,” she had the smile of a predator. “This is all about _me_ defeating _you_.”

 

She was circling his chair now, and there was nothing else for him to do except listening to her.

 

“The operation we performed together yesterday, Sherlock, was not to put down the new criminal organization, but to help me get rid of my opponents. Oh, I just love the irony here, to tell you the truth. I’ve managed to make the government and NSY help me establish my power. And now I am event more powerful here, in Great Britain, than James Moriarty ever was. The organization Mycroft had told you about in the very beginning, the one you thought you’d been fighting yesterday, is actually mine. I am in the lead, but I had some strong competitors for power here, in London. And I don’t like to share.”

 

Sherlock listened closely to everything Irene was saying, his teeth gritted. How did she trick him like that? How could he be so stupid?

 

“So what do you want now, Irene?” he hissed. “It seems you got what you wanted, so why am I here?”

 

“Oh, that’s a good question, Mr. Holmes,” she was standing in front of him again, and then suddenly she came closer and traced the side of his jaw with her thumb.

 

“After everything you did to Moriarty’s network, you should have been defeated. You were the greatest threat we had. But it wasn’t my original intention to kill you.” Irene purred into his ear. “At first, I just wanted to break you, take you out from the game by drowning you in guilt and despair. That’s why I targeted Miss Hooper. It was not my intention to harm little Miss Watson- I have some principles after all. But she could have been  collateral damage, and I wouldn’t have minded that. There was no point in killing Gregory Lestrade or John Watson anymore, I assumed. They’ve learned not to care if they die, I guess this is what happens after living with you all these years. But your little pathologist… When we first met all those years ago, I thought that maybe you felt something for her. I couldn’t have picked a better target now, don’t you agree?”

Irene made a pause to let her words sink in, and then she continued talking:

 

“I needed to teach everyone a lesson, that’s why I had to crack you down in the most excruciating way. I wanted to destroy you morally, but then I realized that if I killed Molly Hooper you would just go insane and wouldn’t stop until you killed us all. That is when I decided to kill you. That is why you are here now, Mr. Holmes.”

 

She took a step away from him and looked around.

 

“And right now, right here, in front of all my men,” she was speaking louder now “I will destroy you. But before you die I need you to know what you have done to the most precious person in your life.”

 

He didn’t need to ask whom she was talking about.

 

“What did you do to Molly?!” he cried. “Where is she?!”

 

“Oh, but as I said, Mr. Holmes,” Irene smiled “I didn’t have to do anything to her.. That was you. You brought Miss Hopper to the point of no return. I didn’t have to move a finger to deal with her, she did everything herself. She took her pills, swallowed them all, and now she is probably floating in her cooling bathtub. At least that’s the condition my man left her in . Such a lovely creature she was, wasn’t she, Sherlock?”

 

He wouldn’t have been able to move, even if he hadn’t been tied to a chair.

 

_NO! NO! NO! No, Molly! Please, oh God, please, no!_

And those thoughts made his head spin so fast that he was on the verge of passing out.

He wanted to tell Molly he loved her. He had thought they still had time for that. He had thought that they still had time for everything else as well.

 

But now she was dead.

 

And he was nothing.

 

“Oh, I can see how this is tearing you down,” Irene laughed. “And I couldn’t wish for anything else . You could have prevented it from happening, you could have stopped her. But what did you do instead? You shagged me because you were not able to face your feelings, Sherlock. But now… Now I hope you can feel everything.”

 

Irene had won. He was destroyed. He felt hot tears running down his cheeks.

 

“Oh, you are crying. How nice!” Irene sighed happily. “And now, Mr. Holmes, I will make everyone here witness your execution. And everyone here,” she was speaking loudly now, presumably to make sure that all the men around her could hear her clearly. “Everyone here should know that getting in the way of this organization or betraying it will have its consequences!” she raised a gun at him. “Farewell, Mr. Holmes. The sex was perfect, I will miss it.”

 

That was the moment when Irene pulled the trigger, but at the same time as she did so something hit her hand. The bullet that was meant for him passed near his ear but it didn’t hit him. Loud noises exploded everywhere around him, and then something hit his chair so hard that Sherlock fell on the floor.

  


“Sherlock, don’t move!” he heard Lestrade’s voice behind him. “I need to untie you!”

 

“What’s happening?” Sherlock croaked.

 

“It’s Mycroft. He gave us the coordinates of this place before he left to Scotland. There’s something wrong with Molly. She is in hospital, he had to check on her. We were almost late getting to you.”

 

“Is Molly… alive?” Sherlock couldn’t believe what he was being told.

_Please, let her be alive! Please! Let me have my chance!_

 

“I don’t know the details. She is in hospital for some reason, but as far as I know she’s alive. There you go!”

Sherlock’s body was free from the rops now. He could move now.

  


“Give me your gun, Greg!” he demanded through the gritted teeth.

 

“Here, I have a spare one, use it to leave the area, you don’t have a body armor…”

 

But Sherlock wasn’t listening to what Lestrade was saying. Once he got the gun, he immediately spotted the place where Irene Adler sat on the floor, trying to mend her shot hand. In two long strides he was near her.

 

“No, Sherlock, stop! We need to question her!” he heard Greg’s voice,but didn’t react to it.

 

Sherlock raised a hand and pulled the trigger. He was crushing Irene’s formerly beautiful skull with each one of his shots, over and over again. Her head was a bloody mess now, as was her body, because he just didn’t stop at the head. He kept on shooting until there were no bullets left.

“SHERLOCK, STOP!” finally, Greg’s voice reached him. “God, calm down!”

 

He turned to Lestrade and then noticed that the crossfire had stopped. Irene’s remaining accomplices were handcuffed and led away from the area they were in.

  


Lestrade and Sherlock were standing face to face, looking at each other.

 

“Had I not heard what this woman said about Molly, I would have to arrest you, mate” Greg finally said.

 

Sherlock lowered his eyes trying to gather his composure.

 

“How bad are you now, Sherlock?” Lestrade asked.

 

“I need to go to see Molly.”

 

“When Mycroft sent us here, he told us that if you weren’t hurt or in need of medical attention, I should get out of here on an helicopter he arranged for you. That’s why I'm asking you this, are you hurt or not, Sherlock?”

 

“Not a scratch” Sherlock replied gloomily. “The helicopter. Now”

 

                                                                     ***

 

One of Mycroft’s men drove him to the hospital. He knew the man in question was one of his brother’s most trustworthy agents. When Sherlock arrived there, he saw Mycroft in the hallway. The look on his face was very serious.  

 

Anthea had been waiting to meet him in the airfield. She had briefed him on the status of the situation. It seemed that while Sherlock was in the helicopter they’d managed to find the mole and crack him to find out how many more of them were around. Irene’s organization was beheaded now, and all its shattered pieces were now starting to fall loose. But Sherlock wasn’t interested in all this information. Anthea knew too little of Molly’s condition, and so he decided to go to the hospital as soon as possible. If he didn’t get to see her soon, know how she was, then he’d just go mad.This was everything he could to in order to preserve his sanity.

 

Mycroft was pale. He was sitting near the hospital room where they were keeping Molly, his eyes fixed on an unknown point and a vacant look on his face. Sherlock’s heart stopped in fear. What if something had happened to Molly while he was getting there? But before he managed to ask something, his brother raised his eyes and looked at him.

 

“She’s alive, Sherlock,” Mycroft said. “Doctors are slightly concerned about possible brain damage, but otherwise everything should be fine when she wakes up. They… They had to intubate her and her heart also stopped once, but she’s fine now… Well, more or less.”

 

Sherlock had never heard his brother sound so lost.

 

Sherlock sat on a chair next to him and he too stared at the wall.

 

“I don’t think it’s wise to inform Barts of what happened.” Mycroft said. “She may have problems, and I don’t think Molly will be happy with all this attention suicidal people usually get from colleagues who hadn’t seemed to care about their condition before they did what they did. I will arrange everything so that it looks like she was poisoned.”

 

Mycroft was rambling, which shocked Sherlock. Even after Sherrinford his brother had managed to stay calm and focused, but now he seemed shattered. Sherlock didn’t think  twice about it before he put an arm on Mycroft’s shoulder, thus stopping his mutterings.

 

“I care for her, you know.” Mycroft finally turned his head to Sherlock. “I probably care for her more than I should, if one’s to consider your relationships with her. Don’t get me wrong, brother dear, I would never make a move in that direction, but when I saw her today… It was hard enough to see you in coma when you were shot and almost died, but to see Molly there… It was…”

 

“Unbearable.” Sherlock finished.

 

“Yes, unbearable indeed.” Mycroft sighed.

 

“I didn’t know. I couldn’t figure out what her intentions were, Mycroft. How could I be so blind?”

 

“I wouldn’t have noticed myself if I hadn’t been there when she was almost hit by a car, the day of the terrorist attack. She just stood there and didn’t move. She was waiting for that car to hit her.She told me later that she was in shock, but I didn’t believe her in the slightest. I went to her place and she had this bottle of expensive champagne in her fridge. It wasn’t champagne she would buy for a Friday night spent alone. It was something for a special occasion. And then… You are not the only one who is capable of deductions, you know.”

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sherlock felt anger rising in his chest.

 

“Well, first of all, I didn’t know where you and Molly stood. And I wasn’t sure you could be subtle enough to discuss the topic with her. I was afraid you would only motivate her to do it sooner. I asked Molly to care for Rosie after she didn’t believe me when I said that she was needed. I tried to convince her of the opposite being truth, but it was easier for her to stay for Rosie than to believe my words. And I suppose that John’s departure with Rosamund pushed her to... do it. I can’t understand why he left. I was very clear when I told him he wasn’t to leave Molly alone..”

 

“He must have heard Rosie calling Molly her mother” Sherlock muttered, feeling how the anger he had felt for Mycroft started to change its course, aiming at John instead.

 

Mycroft froze the moment he heard his brother’s words.

 

“She did that?”

 

“Yes, she did.”

 

“What a clever girl she is,” Mycroft smiled softly.

 

“I guess she takes after her mother.” Sherlock smirked and Mycroft sniffed in response. “May I see her now?” Sherlock asked.

 

“Yes, but get a hold of yourself, brother mine.”

 

“I will, Mycroft.”

 

“And Sherlock, one more thing… Once she wakes up, she can’t be left alone. Are you ready to take on such a responsibility? Think this through, brother mine, because if you are not ready for this, then maybe it will be better for you to not even start at all.”

 

Sherlock frowned. Mycroft had a right to ask him that question, of course he did, but it still hurt to hear it for some reason.

 

“Yes, Mycroft, of course I am ready.”

 

They entered the small hospital room. It was lightened by one small lamp near the bed, where Molly lay. When Sherlock saw her, he had to stop for a second to remind himself how to breathe. The sight of Molly covered in wires and tubes frightened him, and he felt a panic attack starting to get to him again.

 

 _Breathe, for God’s sake!_ he thought, and so he forced the panic to retreat with his willpower as his only weapon.

She looked so pale and so fragile… It hurt to look at her.

 

“I will stay here tonight,” he told Mycroft.

 

“Of course, Sherlock, whatever you wish.”

 

***

 

She regained consciousness rather abruptly. She had been in the bathtub, fighting death. And then she had heard a soft humming and the beeping of medical equipment. That was the last thing she remembered. The moment she woke up, there were just too many stimuli for her to process. She felt the soft texture of the bed linens above and below her, a light pain in her arm where a catheter had been inserted, a heavy headache… And then there was the soft light that hurt her eyes. It was just too much. She tried to turn her head to the side, but she quickly realized that there was a tube in her throat.

 

Molly moaned in pain.

 

“Molly!”

 

She suddenly heard a familiar voice calling for her, and for a second it occurred to her that maybe she was hallucinating.

 

But then there it was again.

 

“Molly! Don’t move! I’ll go call a nurse!”

  


Sherlock ran out from the room and then came back, followed by a woman wearing a  white uniform.

 

“Mrs. Roberts, we’ll need to extract the tube now. Hold on a second.”

 

Molly noticed that the nurse had called her by her fake name, but decided that at the time she didn’t have the strength to care about that.

Her throat hurt badly. She swallowed hard and winced as soon as the tube was removed. A doctor came into the room, and then she spent the following quarter of an hour answering his questions and fighting the pain she felt each time she spoke.

 

“How long have I been out?” she asked.

 

“You were brought here last Friday. Today is Thursday.”

 

“Six days…”

 

“Yes.  And now that you are finally awake I really hope that your husband will go home and rest a bit. I’m afraid his spine may have been permanently damaged after sitting on that chair for so long.”

She looked at Sherlock.

 

_Husband?_

 

“We are not…” she started, but Sherlock interrupted her.

 

“Darling, don’t talk now, you need to rest. You’ve already doing enough  by answering the doctor’s questions.”

 

She was too weak to argue.

 

“Mr. Roberts here is right” the doctor nodded. “But I need to ask you one more question. Do you remember what happened to you?”

 

Molly froze and looked up at the doctor.

 

“I would say that according to your blood test results you were poisoned by some… unknown substance,” the doctor explained. “It could actually be some sort of mix. You are lucky to be alive. I’ll leave you to this and we will help you get better soon. You must rest now.”

 

And with that he left the room.

 

Molly was too exhausted to be surprised. However, she turned to Sherlock and managed to raise her brow inquiringly.

 

“It will be better for you if you keep everything that happened to you a secret for now,” Sherlock said quietly, avoiding to look into her eyes. “Those people who… The people that do what you did are usually put under some sort of surveillance for some time and, knowing you, I realize that you wouldn’t want that.”

 

He finally looked at her.

 

“Mycroft is arranging everything needed so we can take care of you and make sure no one ever knows. But he can stop if you want, of course.”

 

“No, no, I don’t want anyone to know,” Molly whispered.

 

They looked at each other, and Molly felt her eyes begin to water. Sherlock’s presence was too much to bear at the moment. She wanted to live now, but she wanted to live for Rosie- if the girl needed her. Sherlock would always bring her pain, nothing else.

 

“I’m sorry,” he suddenly said, and she couldn’t help but stare at him. “Molly, I am so very sorry! If only I had known  what you’ve been going through! I would have stopped it. I would have never left that bloody cottage, even if it would have meant compromising the entire operation! I knew back then that Irene’s words made you suffer... When she found us together... But had I known how much it was affecting you, I wouldn’t have pretend I didn’t mind the atrocities she was saying! I would have killed her sooner, I would have killed her right then and there in that bloody little kitchen.” Sherlock was rambling now, and Molly’s heart skipped a bit.

 

“What did you do, Sherlock...?” she asked him, feeling scared and confused.

 

“I killed her, Molly. She told me you were dead, she told me that she had helped me to bring you to kill yourself. She told me that that had been her intention from the very beginning. She always wanted to destroy my soul by killing you before she killed me. I killed her as soon as I got the chance. Molly, she won’t harm you anymore now. And I will spend my life at your feet if I have to, whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness. Forgive me, Molly! Forgive me for everything I’ve done to you all these years!

She felt the final drops of her strength slipping away from her after listening to his confession.

 

“Oh my God, Sherlock, are you alright? No, of course you are not alright” she bethought herself. “Is it... too bad?”

 

Sherlock laughed bitterly.

 

“After everything you’ve been through, you still care for me more than you care for yourself, Molly. It won’t do anymore. But to answer your question, yes, I am fine. And, believe me, I would do it again and again and again without hesitation if it’s necessary. ”

 

She was shocked and astonished. She looked at him, not really understanding what he was saying.

 

“Why…” she finally managed. “Why would your soul be destroyed if I were dead, Sherlock?”

 

He looked at her with so much pain in his eyes that she felt it herself.

 

“Molly,” he whispered. “Molly, I love you so much…”

 

The world was spinning around her now. There was a part of her that was incredibly happy to hear those words, but it was so weak and small that at that moment everything else took over. She couldn’t trust him, not after what she had done to herself because of him.

 

But no matter how much stronger everything else was, it just wasn’t powerful enough. Molly was exhausted and she had no strength to spare thinking about what was happening. She wasn’t going anywhere now. She still had Rosie to care for. She had to fight for her right to be with her goddaughter. So even if Sherlock was tricking her again for some reason, she could think about it later.

 

“Sherlock?” she whispered.

 

“Yes, Molly, what do you need?”

 

“I need to sleep now…”.

 

Her voice sounded hoarse, and after she said those words everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/polinaduntonwrites).


	13. I don't want to see him...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is there for Molly, but can she trust him? And does she want to trust him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My darling beta [comeaftermejackrobinson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/comeaftermejackrobinson/pseuds/comeaftermejackrobinson), thank you for all your work on this fic. I honestly hope that everything will be fine with your dreams coming true. Everyone, I want you to know that this girl is amazingly talented, please appreciate this)
> 
> Thank you everyone for your comments! Comments make my life better even if you criticize me :) I thank you all for your attention towards this fic)

****

**Chapter 13.**

**I don't want to see him...**

 

Opening her eyes felt like an impossible thing to do- eyelids so heavy they may as well have been made of stone. She struggled for several minutes, and then she finally saw the light of day through her eyelids. It wasn’t that she wanted to be awake, no. She would have rather continue sleeping. But there was a persistent voice demanding that she woke up. It was a nurse.

 

“Mrs. Roberts,” she called gently “Please wake up. Wake up,” she tried again. “It’s time for your medicine. The doctor will be here soon to do a checkup.”

Molly couldn’t contain the groan that escaped her.

“Okay, okay, I am already awake. Just give me one more  minute please,” she said, her voice hoarse.

When she finally, fully opened her eyes and took the drugs the nurse had brought her, Molly realized there was one more person in the room. She was still groggy with sleep, that’s why it had taken her some time to notice the dark figure standing near the window. Once the nurse left, Molly squinted to get a better look at the man.

“Good morning, Molly,” Mycroft smiled, approaching her. “How are you feeling?”

Suddenly, she remembered everything. She was in the hospital because she had tried to end her life.

Sherlock had been there with her the day before. He had told her he had killed Irene Adler... He had told her that he loved her, and then she had fallen asleep. Molly frowned.

“I am fine, thank you, Mycroft.”

 

He sat on the chair near her bed and looked at her with a sad expression on his face.

 

“I know very well that you must feel physically exhausted, Molly. That’s no surprise if we take into account the amount of drugs they’ve been feeding you here.However, this will pass soon. Your doctor said that you are recovering quickly.So no, I wasn’t asking about your physical condition. I will ask you one more time, Molly: how are you?”

  


She pressed her lips tightly for a moment.

 

“I guess there’s no use in saying that I am fine, Mycroft,” she sighed. “I swallowed a whole bottle of pills and almost died. You don’t usually do that when you are happy and content.”

 

Mycroft smirked sadly.

 

“You’re right, you don’t.”

Suddenly, a horrific thought hit her. She wanted to be there for Rosie, but who would let someone that was  suicidal stay around a baby? Mycroft knew what she had done, and even if he was helping her hide what had happened from her employer, that did not necessarily mean that he would still consider she was capable of taking care of Rosie. What was she supposed to do now? She had to try to make excuses for herself.

“However, I understand now,” she stammered. “I made a mistake. I hadn’t been thinking straight for a while. I should have thought about Rosie. I was hanging on while she was with me, but then John came and took her away from me, and I... sort of lost it. I won’t do it again, Mycroft... I’m... I’m sorry.”

 

She had troubles breathing now. Trying to catch her breath, she leaned back in her bed and closed her eyes.

“Molly,” she felt Mycroft’s hand on her ankle above the blanket and opened her eyes.

 

He looked worried and concerned.

 

“Molly, you need to calm down, everything is going to be fine. You have nothing to apologize for.”

 

“Please, Mycroft, please, don’t take Rosie away from me!” she didn’t notice she had started crying, but it was hard for her to see through her tears now.

 

At that moment, the doctor came into the room, frowning at the sight of her.

 

“Nurse!” he called, and the woman she had met earlier appeared at the door. “We need a mild sedative here.”

 

Molly didn’t resist the injection,and soon after she felt calmer. The doctor asked her several questions and left Molly with Mycroft, who was now standing, leaning against the wall. As soon as the doctor left, he was back at her side again. Her eyelids were heavy as she listened to his words.

“Molly,” he said, placing his hand on her ankle again in what was to be taken as a soothing gesture. “You don’t have to worry about anything. No one is taking Rosie away from you, everything is going to be fine, I promise you. You will sleep now and I will be here when you wake up. Sherlock will also be here, you won’t be alone. Rest now.”

 

Mentions of Sherlock made her open her eyes for a moment.

 

“Why is he here?” she managed to ask.

 

“Well, he is not technically here now, dear. I had to kick him out of the room so he would change, shower and sleep for a bit. He wouldn’t leave your bed and had started to... stink. But I don’t think I will be able to keep him away from you for long,” Mycroft smirked. “He is worried about you, Molly. I don’t think he’ll manage to explain it to you himself, so I think it’s okay for me to tell you that he is afraid of leaving you alone.”

 

She was drifting off to sleep now.

 

“I don’t want to see him...” she whispered before her eyes closed.

She woke up again after several hours and saw that Mycroft was still sitting by her side. He had his nose buried in his phone, but as soon as he saw her awake he put the device away.

 

“Molly,” he greeted her with a smile.

 

“Mycroft, you are still here.”

 

“I promised you I would be here when you woke up, didn’t I?”

 

“You didn’t have to stay.”

 

He sat with his elbows on his knees.

 

“I probably didn’t have to, but I definitely needed it,” he sighed. “Molly, before you say or even think of anything, I want to tell you how scared I am that you are here, in this hospital. It’s not a common thing for me to admit it, but I was terrified when I found you in the cottage. And I am so sorry that I wasn’t there for you when you needed it most. I was distracted by Irene Adler,” Molly shivered by the mention of the name, and Mycroft had to put his hand on her bed to calm her down. “I am sorry to mention this woman’s name. Truth be told, I am sick of hearing it myself, but please, you need to know that she is not a problem anymore.”

 

“Sherlock said…”

 

“Miss Adler is dead,” Mycroft interrupted her. “And you will hear this story as soon as you are ready. But what I wanted to say was that I knew that you were struggling, Molly. And I tried my best to be there for you, but I failed. And that’s something I will never forgive myself for.”

 

“Mycroft,” she tried to interrupt him, but he didn’t let her.

 

“Molly, please, let me finish.” All she could do was nod. “My brother and I both made a lot of mistakes, and some of them hurt you too badly. And that is one more thing I will regret for the rest of my life. But I understand emotions better than my brother- that is why I was the first one to change the way I thought.  I had to reconsider so many things after Sherrinford that I thought my life would be broken as a result. I had to admit that caring was an important advantage, contrary to what I had always believed. Of course I cared for my brother and my parents before that, but I always thought it was a burden. I had to change my mind and I didn’t know how to live in this new paradigm. And then I thought about you.”

 

He made a pause and took a breath.

 

“It was long before you were almost hit by that car the day of the explosion. I thought about how you managed to live your life while caring for so many people, and I couldn’t find the answer. And then you almost died trying to save Rosie from the explosion, and I got a chance to know you better. Molly, I’ve learned so much from you.  As you know, I never had any friends, but I consider you one now, no matter what you think of me. And I tried to tell you that you were needed, but I also realized that you couldn’t believe me. You were so broken, and that hurt me. Against my will, of course, but it hurt me nonetheless. That’s why I tried to stop you from hurting yourself by telling you that Rosie needed you. She did, of course. She does. And it was easy for you to believe that, I know, but I can also see now that you thought I used you when I asked you to be there for little Miss Watson. And that was my biggest mistake.”

She saw that his eyes had started to water. Mycroft Holmes was on the verge of crying in front of her.

 

“So now I won’t be telling you anything on anyone’s behalf. But I will tell you that I need you, Molly. I need you be alive, safe and happy. I need you to smile, I need you to go to work and live your life in whichever way you see fit. And I don’t need anything in return. Please, forgive me Molly, forgive me for not telling you all of this earlier.”

 

Tears began to stream down his face. Molly could not believe what her eyes were seeing.

  


But after surviving a suicide attempt, she somehow could see a lot of other things with more clarity. Molly looked at Mycroft in the eyes, and all she saw there was sincere devotion. She realized that he wasn't lying to her, and this brought tears back to her eyes. She took his hand in hers and gave it a squeeze.

  
  


“It’s okay, Mycroft. You don’t need to apologize. You are my friend and that won’t change, ” she told him.

 

He smiled at her, and his smile warmed her heart.

She knew it was hard for Mycroft to go through such an emotional moment, so she distracted him by asking him questions concerning her job. She wanted to know what twisted version of the truth they had told her colleagues, and Mycroft was happy to fill her in. She wanted to know when she was to return to work, but was surprised to learn that she would have two full weeks off once she left the hospital.

 

“Molly, I wanted to discuss something with you,” Mycroft said. “You can do whatever you want, but I won’t let you stay alone in your flat while you’re on sick leave. Please, don’t try to argue with me,” he told her when she tried to interrupt him. “To tell you the truth, I wouldn’t let you stay alone in your flat after your sick leave is over just as well, but there, presuming you will insist on coming back to your flat, we can make a compromise. If you are to live alone, I will be checking on you every day, or I’ll send Anthea to do it for me when I am too busy at work. But for these two weeks that you will be recovering I would like you to go to a place where I know you will be very well received and taken care of.”

 

She raised her brow inquiringly.

 

“I want you to go to my parent’s house, Molly.”

Two more hours passed, and she was still fighting Mycroft on this. However, she finally ended up agreeing with his plan. The situation seemed surreal to her, but he was adamant. In the end, their conversation turned into something completely idiotic.

 

“Mycroft…” she tried for the thousandth time.

 

“It is decided, Molly.”

 

“But…”

 

“It is decided.”

 

“But what if…”

 

“It is decided.”

 

She finally laughed.

 

“Okay, okay, I’ll go! But are you really sure your parents will be alright with this?”

 

“I already called my mother and explained the situation to her.” When Molly frowned, he hastened to explain. “My mother is the most reliable person in the world, Molly. And, truth be told, she is the one person I trust the most. I told the truth only to her.  My father doesn’t know anything, and your secret will be safe with my mother. She will be delighted to have you. They miss on company. When they get visitors, it’s mostly me and Sherlock. So she will be very glad to have someone over who’s actually nice for a change.”Molly smirked.

 

“Okay, I agree.”

 

“There’s one more thing, Molly,” Mycroft said with hesitation as he started to get ready to leave.

 

“Hm?”

 

“It’s Sherlock.”

 

She tensed immediately.

 

“I know you said you didn’t want to see him, and I told him that. He agreed to stay away from your room, but he is refusing to leave the hospital.”

 

“You mean he is here now?!”

 

“Yes, he’s been here since before you woke up.”

 

“For God’s sake, Mycroft!”

 

“Well, you know my brother, Molly…”

 

“What does he want?”

 

“Well, he wants to talk to you, but if you refuse he just wants to stay here and make sure you are safe.”

 

She frowned, thinking. She knew she would have to face him sooner rather than later, but she was not ready for it yet.

 

His behaviour the previous day had confused her. She couldn’t trust him after what had happened between them, but she had never been actually able to refuse him completely. And it wasn’t like he would eventually leave her alone if she ignored him. No matter what the reasons behind his current state were, he wouldn’t leave her alone until he got what he wanted from her.

 

“Mycroft,” she called. “Ask him to come. But could you please stay nearby? And if he is still here after five minutes, just take him with you. I can’t give him more than that today.”

 

“As you wish, Molly,” Mycroft nodded before leaving to fetch his brother.

Sherlock had been pacing the hall for five hours already when he saw Mycroft coming out of Molly’s room. In two long strides he was in front of his brother, doing his best to stay calm.

 

Mycroft had told him that Molly didn’t want to see him. He was furious with his brother for making him leave her side to go shower and change. Had he been with Molly when she woke up, it would have been harder for her to get him to leave.

“How is she?” he asked.

 

“Molly is much better, brother mine. She is recovering quickly and her psychological state seems to be improving. That is why I have to ask you to be careful, Sherlock. Don’t push her, don’t make her do anything she doesn’t want to, don’t overwhelm her with intense emotions. She needs time and space, and you’ll have to respect her wishes.”

 

“Did she _wish_ to stay in your company for five hours in a row?” Sherlock hissed.

 

“Believe it or not, Sherlock, she did. Molly and I are on good terms now, brother mine. And if you want to achieve the same results, you’ll need to be… gentle.”

Never had jealousy stung him so painfully.

“So what am I to do now?” he asked, annoyed.

“She said she’ll give you five minutes today. Use them wisely. I will come for you if the time is up and you are still there. This is what Molly wants.”

Greeting his teeth, he entered the room.

Molly was still in her bed, but she definitely looked much better now. Some color had returned to her face, and she seemed well rested. He never knew that the look of someone getting better could bring him so much joy and peace.

“Molly,” he whispered.

She was tense, he could see.

 

“Mycroft told me you wanted to talk to me,” she said, frowning.

 

“Yes, yes, I did…” he was nervous, and he had no idea what he could do with only five minutes. “How are you?”

 

“I’m getting better.”

He sighed heavily, collecting his thoughts.

 

“Molly,” he finally said. “You gave me five minutes and I will respect your wish. I’ll stay away from you if that’s what you want. I don’t really know what to tell you now, but I know what I wish for. I hope that someday you’ll forgive me. I hope that one day you will let me back in your life. I’ve been replaying the last three days in my mind over and over and I don’t…”

 

He felt like he couldn’t breathe, the air was leaving his lunges. But it only lasted a moment.  

 

“Molly, I was so scared…”

 

He knew he looked pathetic, but he couldn’t care less. The thought of losing Molly was so terrifying that he could barely stand on his feet.

 

“I beg you, please forgive me. And I promise you that I will spend the rest of my life trying to deserve that forgiveness if I have to. And if there is something… anything… I am not good at this,” he suddenly said. “I don’t know what a man is supposed to say to the woman he loves, to the woman he almost killed with his actions. I don’t know what a man in this position is supposed to do to deserve her forgiveness…”

She looked shocked and at a loss for words. He froze where he was standing, unable to find any other words to describe how he was feeling.

 

“Sherlock,” she sighed. “We will have to figure it out eventually, I suppose. But right here, right now I don’t know how to do it. I can’t bring myself to trust you. And I am afraid of being hurt by you again. You broke me into pieces and I haven’t found all of them again yet. That’s why I need time… Time and space. And you have to respect my wishes. I will figure it out eventually, but now I can barely look at you. So please, for now, leave me alone.”

He was shattered. The feeling was so similar to what had overcome him when Mary took a bullet for him.  But this time it was even worse. It was like the bullet had actually hit him and he was falling into the darkness. He nodded his agreement and turned on his heels. The door was already open, Mycroft was already there to fetch him. His five minutes were up.

 

                                                                                                                   ***

_He was standing in a dark room and there was no one around him._

 

_“It’s so nice to see you again, Mr. Holmes,” he heard a voice say, and his blood froze in his veins._

 

_Irene Adler was standing in front of him, smiling slyly._

 

_“You… You are dead…” he whispered._

 

_“Oh, yes, Mr. Holmes. Yes, I am,” Irene laughed. “But I couldn’t just leave, could I? I needed  some company. So I came back. And now, after getting what I want, I will return to… the other side, so to say.”_

 

_She came closer to him and rubbed his cheek with her thumb. He was scared. He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move._

 

_“What are you talking about, Irene?” he croaked._

 

_“Oh, you know, Mr. Holmes, I’ve always been very fond of women. And there was one woman in particular that caught my attention.”_

 

_The world around him started to spin. Irene stepped back and Sherlock let out a loud cry. There she was, the woman Irene had been talking about. It was Molly, and she was lying on the floor. She was  bleeding. She wasn’t moving, she wasn’t breathing._

 

_She was dead._

He opened his eyes. He was panting so hard... He was sitting in the hospital hall near Molly’s room. His heart was beating so rapidly he was having trouble getting some air into his lungs: his breathing pattern was erratic,  he couldn’t inhale properly. He felt nauseous and had to put his head between his knees to prevent falling off his chair.

 

Panic. That was the only thing he was able to feel in that moment. It filled his body from head to toe. Trying to fight it, he groaned.

 

“Sherlock!”

 

He felt a small hand on his shoulder.

 

“Sherlock, what’s going on?”

 

He raised his head, and there was Molly, standing by his side, wearing nothing but her hospital robe. She was looking at him with concern.

 

“Molly!”

 

She was alive. She was alive and safe, that had been just a dream!

 

“Sherlock, take a deep breath!” Molly commanded, and he obeyed. After several minutes of breathing steadily and feeling the warm weight of her hand on his shoulder, his panic faded and he finally relaxed.

 

“Molly, what are you doing here?” he asked as soon as he found his voice. “You should go to bed.”

 

“They removed the catheter and I needed the loo,” Molly shrugged. “What was that all about?”

 

“I… I had a bad dream and panicked.”

 

“Sherlock Holmes having a panic attack because of a dream,” she smirked. “What’s wrong with this world?”

 

He frowned, rubbing his temples.

 

“What was it about?” she asked quietly.

 

“You. You were dead there.”

 

She gasped, hugging herself.

 

“Sherlock, I’m fine. And I will be fine,” she said after a few minutes of silence. “Go home, you need to sleep in your bed.”

 

“I can’t!” he exclaimed. “I can’t,” he added quieter when he saw she was shivering. “It only gets worse when I am away from you.”

 

He saw astonishment crossing her face.

 

“Sherlock,” she whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder again. “How long have you been having these panic attacks?”

 

“Since the day of the explosion, since the day you almost died in that bloody coffee shop…”

 

She gripped his shoulder harder, a little gasp escaping her lips. They sat in silence for a while before she spoke to him again.

 

“You need to sleep, Sherlock. I am safe now. I’ll let you sleep in my room if you promise me to go away before I wake up. I already told you, I need time... Can we agree on that today?”

 

“Yes, Molly,” he sighed, relaxing even more. “Yes, we can.”

They were in her room and he was sitting on a chair in the corner, leaning into the wall. Molly’s presence soothed him, and he was almost asleep when Molly spoke to him.

 

“Did you call John, Sherlock? How is Rosie?”

 

“I couldn’t speak to him… Not after he left you alone… I was afraid of talking to him, even if it was only a phone call. I was afraid of my reaction. . But Mycroft sent Anthea to check on them. Rosie is fine.”

He didn’t tell her that their goddaughter was calling for her “mommy” often. He did not want to make her nervous. Molly would be able to see Rosie soon, but she needed to recover first.

“Mycroft asked your mother to accommodate me for the time being, until my sick leave is over,” she suddenly said.

 

“He did what?!”

 

“He didn’t want me to be alone, and he said your mother was happy to have me.”

Sherlock was shocked and jealous again. He would give anything to make Molly trust him like she trusted Mycroft. How hadn’t he noticed how close those two had become?

“Can I go with you?” he suddenly asked.

He felt how Molly tensed, even if he couldn’t see her. Even if they both were hidden from each other by  the darkness engulfing the room.

“My parents have a big house,” he hastened to say. “You won’t see me around often. Please, Molly…”

The following five minutes were spent in silence.

 

“Fine,” Molly finally said. “But I don’t want to see you often.”

She was released from hospital several days later. She was feeling much better, both physically and psychologically. Mycroft was keeping his promise  and checking on her every day now, and she also knew that Sherlock was there as well. He would come to her room at night when he thought she was asleep and then would leave her in the morning before she was awake. Their presence was healing, she could say. Even Sherlock’s, though she couldn’t face him. Not yet.

She was in the car that had picked then up from the airport, and Mycroft was sitting next to her in the back seat.

 

“Can I ask you a question, Molly?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Are you planning on letting my brother back in your life anytime soon?”

She caught a glimpse of the car that was following theirs in the side mirror. Sherlock was there, she knew, true to his word to stay away from her.

“Do you think I should?”

“I think that he might go mad if you don’t,” Mycroft smirked. “But I also think that you are the only one that gets to decide.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, find me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/polinaduntonwrites)


	14. Holmes estate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Mr. and Mrs. Holmes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update is a bit too late. Sometimes the editing takes time.
> 
> One thing: I know that Mrs. Holmes is usually called Viotel in fanfiction. But I actually made some research and found out [ here in Trivia section](http://bakerstreet.wikia.com/wiki/Mrs_Holmes) that in series 3 Mary Watson was reading a book "The Dynamics of Combustion" and Mrs. Holmes' initials there were "M. L.". That's why Mrs. Holmes' name is Martha (yes, like Mrs. Hudson) in this fic. As for Mr. Holmes, I just called him after Timothy Carlton, who played Mr. Holmes in the series. I hope, you won't mind.
> 
> Thank you, my darling beta [ comeaftermejackrobinson ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/comeaftermejackrobinson/pseuds/comeaftermejackrobinson)for the fact that, no matter what, you are still finding time for my fic. And just for the fact that you are who you are ^)

****

**Chapter 1** **4** **.**

**Holmes estate.**

Sherlock was right: his parents’ house was quite big. It wasn’t exactly enormous, but there was plenty of space to accommodate a family of five, maybe even a family of six.

 

“Your parents live here alone?” she asked Mycroft without hiding her surprise.

 

“Yes, they do. At least for the time being. However, Sherlock and I grew up here. We still have our own rooms with our single beds and all.”

 

She smirked.

 

“Doesn’t your mother allow the two of you to bring girlfriends here?” she teased and watched as a smile smile appeared in Mycroft’s face.

 

“She does, but they have to sleep in the guest bedroom,” he answered, and Molly couldn’t contain her laughter. “Molly, Sherlock will be here with us to greet our parents. I hope you understand,” he added with a frown.

“Of course, Mycroft,” she was quick to reassure him. “I am a guest here and it’s not that I expect Sherlock to stay away from his parents while I am around.”

 

“Believe me, Molly, Sherlock will be happy to get out of their way as soon as humanly possible” Mycroft commented with a smirk. “Things are getting better between us all after Sherrinford, but that doesn’t mean that the situation is no longer… complicated.”

 

She tensed a bit when he mentioned Sherrinford, but then relaxed quickly. The past had to stay in the past. That was what she had realized after her failed attempt to end her own life. She regretted it so much now! But it was necessary for her to try to leave all bad things behind. She owed it to herself to clear the way for something better. This conception was new to her, and she was still trying to accept it, but it was an ongoing process.

 

“I am sorry, Mycroft,” she touched his elbow and smiled at him. “I hope things will get better soon.”

 

“Oh, they are already better, Molly, but thank you,” he smiled back as they were watching Sherlock’s car enter the driveway.

 

The prospect of seeing him in the daylight was making her so nervous. He’d stayed by her side during the nights she’d spent in hospital, but the last time she had seen his face properly had been when he had the panic attack in the hallway near her room. Now, as he came closer, tentatively looking at her, she was shocked to see how bad he looked. He tried to seem fine, she could see that. His clothes were perfectly clean and ironed, stylish suit showing from under his coat. He had even shaved, but his face was pale with dark circles under his eyes. He looked older than the last time she had seen him, and the clothes that were usually very slim fit looked slightly baggy on him now.

 

“Molly, Mycroft,” he nodded, coming closer.

 

Together, they went to the cottage door. Standing behind Mycroft on the threshold of the house, she glanced at Sherlock from the corner of her eye. His expression was blank. He was looking at his feet, not blinking. He looked so lost and so exhausted, she couldn’t fight the urge to soothe his worries. Not really thinking, she put her hand on his arm in a comforting gesture. He flinched. He had not been expecting her touch, so he turned to her with a stupefied expression on his face. Molly removed her hand quickly, as if he’d burnt her, but she wasn’t able to avert her gaze from his. For a man that was always so sure of himself, he looked so lost now that her world shuddered. She could see it in his eyes, that same pain that had tormented her before Scrabster, before she did what she did. He wanted to say something to her, but before he had the time to find the courage the door to the cottage opened and a smiling old lady came out to greet them.

 

“Finally! I was expecting you earlier today. Come on in!” she exclaimed, letting them into the house.

 

“Mother,” Mycroft said after they entered. “Let me introduce you to Miss Molly Hooper.”

 

“It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. Holmes,” Molly smiled, shaking the old woman’s hand. “Thank you for letting me stay with you for the next couple of weeks!”

 

“Oh, it’s Martha, darling,” Mrs. Holmes waved her off. “And the pleasure is all mine! Tim, where are you, dear? Come here, meet our guest!” she called. “Take off your coat! I won’t let you sit at the table wearing your street clothes!” These last words were addressed to Sherlock, who was now standing near the door, looking gloomy.

 

“Yes, Mummy,” he muttered, shrugging off his coat.

 

“You look too thin, darling,” Martha said the moment she took a look at her son. Molly couldn’t agree more. _When was the last time he ate, for God’s sake?_

 

“And you look same as always,” Mrs. Holmes said to Mycroft. This time, her voice didn’t sound as sweet.

 

She noticed how Mycroft’s shoulders sank. He had told Mollyhow angry his parents still were with him for what had happened to Eurus, and she knew how hard this whole situation with his sister was for him. Molly squeezed Mycroft’s hand when no one was watching. He smiled at her, grateful for her caring nature, but then he gave her a sign that everything was all right.

 

An old man joined them all.

“Well, hello there!” he greeted cheerfully. “Sherlock, I’m glad to finally see you here. Mycroft, hello! And that must be our guest. Molly, is it?”

 

She was ready to greet him with a handshake, but she was surprised to find herself in the eldest Mr. Holmes’ arms. Sherlock’s father hugged her tightly and then pulled away, smiling brightly at her. He smelled so nice, and for a second she thought that it had been her own father hugging her. She had to overcome the tears that threatened to come as a consequence of how much tenderness this old man was showing her.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Holmes,” she whispered.

 

“Call me Tim, dear. I hate all this formal nonsense! I’m just a simple old man.”

 

“Oh, great, now that everyone is here, let’s go have some lunch! Food must be getting cold already,” Mrs. Holmes said.

 

“So how are you feeling, Molly?” Tim asked casually when Martha was done filling them all on the latest news.

 

Molly tensed, and both Sherlock and Mycroft looked up at their father, shocked.

 

“I heard you were sick for some time,” Mr. Holmes smiled.

 

“Oh, I’m… I’m fine, Tim, thank you,” Molly managed to smile back. “My doctor said all I need now is rest. I think I have recovered almost completely.”

 

“You are still too weak, Molly,” she shivered when she heard Sherlock’s voice. “You are wearing off too fast and you still need a lot of time to recover. You need to sleep and to eat more.”

 

Everyone felt silent after Sherlock’s statement, and Molly felt slightly embarrassed from all the attention she was getting.

 

“Well, it won’t be a problem for us to feed you well, darling,” Mrs. Holmes finally said. “As for sleep, I managed to put these two into bed before ten in the evening till they both were well into their teen years, so I will manage to do the same with you if I have to.”

 

 

Her initial fear of being a burden for the Holmes family vanished very quickly. Martha seemed really pleased with Molly’s presence. Sherlock was right, though: Molly got tired very quickly. So when she went down to the kitchen closer to the midday every day there was always a cup of hot coffee, some fresh bakery and a smiling Mrs. Holmes waiting for her there. The warmth she was getting from both Tim and Martha was overwhelming, but it was her third morning in the Holmes estate that Molly found herself completely overwhelmed by what had happened to her.

 

“Good morning, darling!” Mrs. Homes greeted her in her usual manner. “I’ve got something special for you today.”

 

“Morning, Martha,” Molly smiled, sitting down at the table. “You do? What is it?”

 

“I want you to feel at home here, Molly,” Mrs. Holmes shrugged. “So… Here you go!”

 

She pulled a box from under the table.

 

“Oh, Martha, you shouldn’t have…”

 

“Open it, Molly.”

 

She opened the box and gasped in awe. There was a small flower pot with beautiful violets in it. Her heart hurt from how beautiful the gesture was.

“Martha…”

 

“I asked Sherlock for help,” Mrs. Holmes smiled shone with pride and honesty, and Molly looked at her surprised. “He told me your father used to grow these and that you had plenty of them at home.”

Molly couldn’t believe this. She didn’t even notice when the first tears felt.

“This is Vintage Lace. Sherlock mentioned that you loved it.”

 

“It was my father’s favorite. It’s quite rare and he was proud to have it. He used to grow them at our home when I was a little girl. And yes, that’s why I love it most, too,” she sobbed.

 

_How had he known?_

“Sherlock told me you mentioned it once, one day you two were working together at Barts,” Martha explained.

 

Molly was so touched! Martha and Tim were so warm and caring! She had forgotten how it was to be so cared for. Mrs. Holmes came closer and hugged her.

 

“Hush, darling!” she whispered into Molly’s hair. “Hush, it’s alright.”

 

“I know,” Molly sobbed. “I know… It’s just…”

 

“Yes, I know what it is, dear,” Mrs. Holmes smiled warmly. “You can put them in your room and then take the pot to London with you once you’re ready to go. Or you can leave it here and make the room you are sleeping in now yours on a regular basis. It is yours if you want it! That way you could come visit us often! I promise to water them, I’ll take care of them for you while you’re away!”

 

It was too much. She wasn’t used to so much kindness. Her crying got worse, but those were bittersweet tears. They had to do more with happiness than with pain.  

“Oh, darling,” Mrs. Holmes soothed her. “Calm down, please, darling. Such stress is not good for you. You know what? I’ll give you a piece of chocolate cake I baked this morning. Sherlock mentioned that you liked chocolate.”

 

Sherlock wasn’t wrong, of course, and it warmed Molly’s heart to realize that he had actually been listening to her all this time, and more than on one occasion! And even when it had been absolutely unnecessary for him to do so. She laughed, inhaling deeply in an attempt to calm herself, and then she willingly took a slice of cake from the plate Martha was offering her. It was, of course, the most delicious piece of chocolate cake she’d ever eaten.

 

“I always wanted to have a daughter, you know,” Mrs. Holmes said once Molly had managed to pull herself together. “When Eurus was born… Oh, I was so happy! There were so many men in our house and I dreamt that our third child would be a girl… But look at what she turned into! I know you suffered at her hand too, didn’t you, Molly?”

 

Molly had never thought that it would be easy for her to discuss Eurus or any of the things that had happened at Sherrinford, but to her surprise it was easy to speak of it all with Mrs. Holmes. This old woman was so full of love and warmth- Molly felt protected by her. She was ready to open up now, she could speak about what had happened with her the day she had received that terrible phone call from Sherlock.

 

“Yes, yes, I did… But I am fine now, Martha. I think I managed to overcome this, put it behind me. And I am very sorry for everything you are going through now. I’m so very sorry!”

 

“If someone here should be sorry for anything, it is me, my darling girl… Something must be wrong with me if all my kids are so… troubled.”

 

“It’s not your fault, Martha, don’t say that! Please!”

 

“Well, I am a mathematician, Molly,” the old woman shrugged. “I believe in statistics. And 100% of my children are troubled and complicated. My husband is a light soul. He just doesn’t have any of this darkness in him. He even describes himself as ‘a bit of a moron’, which is not true, of course. But he is much less complicated than any of us are. So, it must be me who is in charge of everything.”

 

“You may be all complicated, but not every complicated person sets out to hurt other people. At least not intentionally, they don’t,” Molly was afraid to say something wrong. She didn’t want to upset Martha, but the old woman seemed to be suffering a lot from what had happened to her family. She seemed so sad because of Eurus. “It hurts, but sometimes people are just like that. It is not your fault. Please, don’t ever think so,” Molly took Martha’s hand in hers, and the woman started to cry.

 

“I know, Molly, I know… But she is my daughter… And, no matter what, I still love her, I’ve always loved her. I was so broken when they told me that she was dead. And I am still so angry with Mycroft for keeping everything a secret! I realize now that he was trying to protect our family, but I thought that my only daughter was dead and I lived with this pain for so many years!”

 

Molly squeezed Martha’s hand to help the woman calm down.

 

“I’m so sorry…”

 

“Yes… Yes, me too… And I am sorry for what she did to you, whatever it was… And I wanted to tell you that you will always be welcome at this house, anytime you want. Mycroft and Sherlock told me you have no parents, so if you want us… not to be your parents, of course, I’m not saying that... But if you want us to be close to you, we’d be delighted. Me and Tim, believe me, we would love to be there for you. He loves you so much already.”

 

They were crying together now, but Molly managed to smile through her tears.

 

“Yes, Martha. I would love it very much.”

 

“Family is a matter of choice, as my hewing Martha Hudson loves to say when she comes for a visit.”

 

“Oh! So you are close to Mrs. Hudson?”

 

“Well, of course, Sherlock barely calls and Mycroft doesn’t like to worry us if something is wrong with his little brother. So Martha is a sort of spy for me, if that makes sense,” Mrs. Holmes smirked. “And that’s why I know that you also have a daughter, don’t you? And it also was a choice.”

 

Molly smiled with sadness. She had been thinking about Rosie lately. The little girl was constantly on her mind. Mycroft, who was dropping by for a visit every day, had told her that the girl was fine but that her father was having some trouble coping with her. Mycroft promised Molly to help her get to John as soon as her sick leave was over, but Molly missed her goddaughter so badly.

 

“She is… Well yes, she is like a daughter to me… But… Well, I guess... It’s a long story.”

 

“You know what, Molly,” Mrs. Holmes leaned back in her chair. “Tim went to visit his friend, and Sherlock is off to who knows where. We have plenty of time and it would do you good to sit and rest. Let’s do this: I will make you a nice cuppa and you’ll tell me everything. And by everything, I mean _everything_! Don’t keep anything from me. I guess we can get this elephant out of the room and say that you tried to commit suicide,” Molly gasped, but Mrs. Holmes put a warm hand on her shoulder. “I don’t blame you at all, dear. But I want to know what happened. You’ve just agreed to be my daughter, darling. I guess this means we can be honest with each other. I promise not to judge you. And believe me when I say so, because I almost managed to forgive Mycroft. Your doings can’t be worse than his.”

 

And just like that, Molly found herself telling Martha everything. She started with the morgue and the man with the riding crop. She told her how she had fallen in love with him the moment she saw him. She told her about Moriarty, and helping Sherlock to fake his death. She explained to Mrs. Holmes who Irene Adler was and what Molly thought she had meant to Sherlock. (She didn’t mention the fact that Sherlock had killed Irene, though. It was unlikely that Mrs. Holmes would take that bit of information well). She told her about everything that had happened after Sherrinford, and about how she still felt so broken and alone. She told her how much Rosie meant to her and how angry she had been with John for neglecting his own child. She told her about how she’d found Sherlock and Irene together, and then the terrorist attack. She spoke of Scrabster, of how good Mycroft had been to her during those difficult days. She told her about Sherlock visiting the cottage. And then she told her about what John had said the day he took Rosie away from her. And once she started talking, she couldn’t stop. She spoke of the pills she had taken and her hospital stay. She didn’t hide anything from Mrs. Holmes, and the old woman turned out to be a great listener. She paid attention to everything Molly had to sat, her mouth agape. She would shake her head from time to time, but not once did she interrupt Molly. By the time Molly finished up, it was already getting dark. Mrs. Holmes was sitting in the same spot she had been when Molly had begun telling her story, and the young pathologist could see that the woman in front of her was in shock.

 

“It… It must be too much to digest,” Molly murmured apologetically.

 

“What an idiot my younger son is!” Martha exclaimed. “Oh my God, what an idiot man! Molly, you are a saint! And no matter how much he loves you, don’t give in too easy. Make him suffer!”

 

Martha stood up from her chair to refill her cup of tea, but Molly remained seated, looking at the older woman with what could have only been described as astonishment.

 

“What is it, dear?” Mrs. Holmes asked when she noticed Molly’s confusion.

 

“What… Do you think he really loves me?”

 

“Well, of course he does! And I don’t think so only because he said those words to you. I understand your doubts, dear. He’s manipulated you so often in the past, after all. But I know my son too well. I can tell you this: he is smitten with you. He spends every night by your door, for God’s sake!”

 

“He does what now?!”

 

Mrs. Holmes smiled slyly.

 

“On the first night you came here, I needed to fetch something from the study that is near your room. And there he was, sitting by your door on the floor. I tried to get him to go to his bedroom, but he just told me to go away, afraid that I would wake you with all the noise I was making. I tried to talk some sense into him, but he wouldn’t listen so I just dropped the subject. He is away during the day, but every night he comes to your door. And after what I have just heard, I hope you’ll keep him there for a couple more years.”

 

Molly couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She’d been sleeping very soundly lately, so she had no idea that Sherlock had been there for her every night.

 

“I suppose he’s afraid you will start having those nightmares again. He told me you suffered from nightmares when you were in Scotland. At least, now, after your story, I understand what he meant when he said that you might be scared…”

 

“When... When does he sleep?” Molly asked, begging that it wouldn’t show just how stunned she was by everything Martha was saying.

 

“Oh, don’t worry, he is gone every day as soon as he hears us waking up, and Tim and I are the early risers here. I guess he sleeps in the mornings. He never needed too much sleep, after all,” Martha smiled.

 

Molly couldn’t help worrying about Sherlock. She remembered how tired he’d looked during her stay in the hospital. He had been staying every night with her there, too. And he had looked so thin the last time she’d seen him at the Holmes household… He’d promised to be around, but he had also promised he wouldn’t bother her with his presence. Well, he was keeping that promise. But now that she knew that he had been staying awake at nights to be around her in her most fragile moments, she couldn’t help but worry about him.

 

“Martha,” Molly said. “Please, make sure that he is eating well at least.”

 

“Oh, don’t worry, Molly, dear, I know Sherlock very well. I would never let my son be in any real danger,” Martha winked.

 

 

He spent a week sitting near her door every night. He would come after everyone had gone to sleep and would just sit there in case Molly had a nightmare. He also felt better when he wasn’t too far away from her. When she was near her, he could almost fall asleep without any nightmares haunting him. His mother had caught him once, but he knew perfectly well what to do and, most importantly, say to talk her into leaving him alone. So every night he would come and sit by Molly’s door, just in case she needed him.

 

It was getting dark a lot earlier than usually those days, and he couldn’t just walk around the garden or near the river for long, at least not in the daylight. He promised Molly to give her some much needed space, that’s why he had been trying to stay away from the house while she was awake. He could lock himself in his childhood room, of course, that was one option. But it turned out that after Sherrinford it was just too haunted, infested with those terrifying memories he had been suppressing for all his life. Thank God his father had a small shed in the garden where he kept all his tools and equipment. Sherlock took to sleeping there, and that was where his mother had found him the second day after his arrival.

 

She didn’t say anything specific, just brought him some food and talked a bit about everything and nothing. His mother was good at that. She also asked him about Molly, what could make her stay in their house more comfortable. Mrs Holmes wanted the young pathologist to feel more at home there than anywhere else. His mother knew him perfectly we'll- that meant she was smart enough not to try to argue his decision to stay in the shed.

 

But it was on their third day at his parents’ house that she went to him, completely furious and ready to give him a piece of her mind.  He immediately realized that he was in trouble. It was like in his childhood, really. His mother had this special _You are in trouble, young man_ look on her face that had terrified both him and Mycroft to the bones when they were kids. However, she still brought a plate of sandwiches with her and didn’t move until he began eating.

 

“Well, Sherlock,” his mother said. “I honestly hoped that at least one of my sons was a little bit smart. It seems I couldn’t have been more wrong. I think this girl,” that was Molly she was talking about “is nothing short of a saint. She told a lot of stuff today, nice talk that we had- she shared with me what must be the entire history of you two. Oh, Sherlock, never in my life had I felt so ashamed!”

 

He was looking at his feet now. He was ashamed of himself, of that he was sure. He knew he didn’t deserve Molly after everything he’d done, but the thought of leaving her alone was one that  immediately drove him to panic.

 

“So, what are you going to do, son?” his mother suddenly asked.

 

He looked at her in surprise and awe, realizing that no matter how hard he had fucked up, his mother was still there for him. She smirked at him knowingly.

 

“Well, do not deceive yourself, Sherlock. I am only helping you here because I know now that Molly still cares for you, no matter how much you hurt her. And I will care about Molly’s interests here, because she is family now, it doesn’t matter if you want it to be like that or not. So tell me, Sherlock, are you suffering now only because you are feeling guilty? Or are you in pain because you love this girl? Because if guilt is the case, if you don’t stop fooling around, then I think that maybe you should go back to London and let your brother conquer Molly. I don’t think it will be an easy thing for him to do, but if you don’t want Molly, I will better do my best to help your brother.”

 

“What does it have to do with Mycroft?!” he was so angry that his mother mentioned his brother that he couldn’t help but hiss.

 

“Oh, come on, Sherlock! Mycroft is in love with Molly! He’s fallen for her, and deeply I must add. But he won’t do anything about it because he doesn’t know if you’ll want to do something about it yourself.  He knows that she loves you, so he won’t do anything in case there is a chance you will get your head out of your nice arse. But things change, Sherlock. Even such persistent people like Molly change. So, you know...”

 

“I love her!” he interrupted his mother. “I love her and I want her. I love everything about her, I was stupid enough to deny my feelings and now I will suffer the consequences. But I love her so very much!”

 

“That’s what I thought. So, do you have a plan?”

 

“I was going to stay around but not approach her before she’s ready for that.”

 

“Well, I am sure that’s a nice idea, but I think there can be another way.”

 

Sherlock looked inquiringly at his mother.

 

“Molly misses Rosie. And as far as I’m concerned, your friend John is an arrogant, selfish bastard. You should talk to him. Rosie needs her father, but she also needs a mother. I tell you, Molly would make a great mother for that little girl. She has everything in her to be a hell of a good one. She is much better than myself. Bring Rosie to Molly with or without John. Make it legal, Sherlock. And that might help.”

 

“I wanted to do it anyway, but do you think it will help me?”

 

“She asked me today to keep an eye on you... She cares for you, Sherlock, but you need to win her over.”

 

He pondered her words as a sudden thought struck him.

 

“Mom, and where’s Molly now?”

 

“Oh, she is asleep now. She still gets tired very quickly. So you can take your post by her door whenever you want, but always remember to eat at first. She asked me to feed you.”

 

He smiled for the first time in days.

 

“Mom,” he called her. “Thank you.”

 

She winked at him and went out of the shed, leaving Sherlock alone to reflect on the conversation they had just shared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi! to me on tumblr. [ PolinaDuntonWrites ](https://polinaduntonwrites.tumblr.com/).


	15. I love you so much...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is doing his best to make things right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, this is the chapter I hope you'll like. But, please, take a notice that this is not the end of the story. No matter how this chapter ends, Sherlock will still have to earn Molly's trust. Just remember that.
> 
> My darling beta [comeaftermejackrobinson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/comeaftermejackrobinson/pseuds/comeaftermejackrobinson) is going on vacation, so next chapters can be delayed. Anyway, have fun, girl, hope you'll enjoy your trip! And thank you so much for your wonderful work!
> 
> Thank you everyone who leaves comments. I am always so glad to read them! Hope you'll have fun!

****

 

**Chapter 15.**

**I love you so much...**

 

The following day Sherlock was standing in front of the door to 221b Baker Street with Mycroft by his side. He was ready to enter the building his brother stopped him.

 

“What is it, Mycroft?” Sherlock asked, failing to mask his annoyance.

 

He knew that his brother had been nothing but supportive of him these last few weeks, but Mycroft’s feelings for Molly worried him. He now knew that his brother truly loved her, and Molly had a good relationship with him.  He also couldn’t stop thinking about the words his mother had said to him that day in the shed, about how she was willing to help Mycroft win Molly over if Sherlock fucked things up one more time. (Well, she hadn’t put it like that, of course, but Sherlock couldn’t get the idea out of his head nonetheless).  

 

“I wanted to ask you to be prepared,” Mycroft said. “You will see John Watson now. John Watson, the man that’s partly responsible for what happened to Molly. And the last time you faced someone who had threatened Molly’s life you killed them with your bare hands. I remind you, brother mine, that little Rosamund is there too now, and she needs her father alive. That’s all I wanted to say.”

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but nodded curtly before knocking on the door instead of simply letting himself in.

They were greeted by Mrs. Hudson.

 

“Oh, darling! I’m so glad to see you!” Sherlock smiled at first, but then realized that the old woman was addressing Mycroft. “You too, Sherlock,” Mrs. Hudson was quick to add before she let them into the house. It seemed that the old lady was still angry with Sherlock for what had happened with Irene Adler. He couldn’t hold it against her.

 

“John is home now, but he’s been working too much lately and I am running out of powers. Rosie is an angel, but I am too old to stay on my feet for so long! Oh, how I wish Molly was here! Your mother told me that she was getting better. Poor girl, I should have stayed with her! I didn’t think that John would leave her in such a state!” Mrs. Hudson was yammering, but something about what she said caught Sherlock’s attention. He felt a pang of worry. Judging by the look on his face, Mycroft did, too.

“You talked to our mother? Sherlock asked.

 

“What do you mean by _her state_ , Mrs. Hudson?” Mycroft squinted.

 

Mrs. Hudson turned to them. She looked slightly surprised.

“Well, of course I talked to your mother! She is a good friend of mine, and I also care a great deal about Molly. Your mother loves her, by the way,” Mrs. Hudson chuckled, but then she got all serious again. “And when we were together with Molly in Scrabster I could tell that something was wrong with her. She tried to look cheerful as always, and I probably wouldn’t have noticed anything if we hadn’t been living under the same roof. But I couldn’t really understand what it was at the time. So I left her with John. She seemed fine. She had Rosie there with her, and she always looked better when our girl was around. I assumed it was okay to leave them together… Well, John didn’t tell me why he left, and then your mother said that Molly was poisoned… Honestly, Mycroft, it was not so hard to put two and two together. Oh, I was so angry with John! I could have killed him! I told him it was his fault that Molly had tried to do that to herself... ”

 

“What did you just say?” If it hadn’t been for Mycroft’s presence, Sherlock would have started looking for something to throw at the nearest wall. “Mrs. Hudson,” Sherlock hissed, gathering his composure. “Please leave.”

 

“But, Sherlock, dear!”

 

“I said LEAVE! NOW!”

 

Mrs. Hudson yelped and then went back to her flat. The brothers were left alone once again.

 

“Well, brother mine,” Mycroft sighed. “I guess we’ll have to improvise.”

  


Rosie saw them first.

 

“Lock!” she cried, and Sherlock’s heart melted a bit at the sight of her. He had missed his goddaughter so much!

 

“Hello, Watson,” he smiled, lifting her from the floor. “How are you?”

 

Rosie laughed, taking his chin in her tiny hands.

 

“Croft!” she finally recognized Mycroft, and Sherlock was surprised once again to see the warmest of smiles appear on his brother’s face.

 

“May I?” Mycroft asked, reaching out for Rosie. Sherlock handed the girl to him. “I missed you, Rosamund.”

 

The sight of his brother hugging his goddaughter as if she was his own child made Sherlock panic for a second, but it was at that moment that John entered the room.

 

“Oh, Sherlock, hi! Hello, Mycroft,” he greeted them. He looked surprised.

 

John looked frazzled. He was obviously tired. His eyes were very red and there were black circles under them. There was a yellow stain on his shirt, and Sherlock deduced that he had been trying to feed Rosie just before his and Mycroft’s arrival. Sherlock’s fists clenched. Oh, how angry he was at him! He had to take several deep breaths to calm himself down.

 

“Oh, God, she is finally smiling! She’s been very fussy lately. I didn’t know teething could be so hard...” John said.

 

Sherlock frowned. Rosie had been teething for a while now, but John had been too busy to notice.

 

“Let me help you with that, John,” Mycroft offered, handing Rosie back to Sherlock. He took his coat off before cradling the girl in his arms. “We might be more comfortable in the kitchen, I think.”

Sherlock watched John watch Mycroft- he was still angry at his friend, but he found the situation amusing nonetheless. The doctor appeared to be in shock that the eldest Holmes’ brother was capable of feeding a toddler. He was actually surprised himself at how good Mycroft was with the girl. He remembered a time when his brother would not have taken a child in his arms, at least not without wincing. But there he was now, grinning at the girl that sat on a high chair and feeding her some porridge.

  


“So, what’s that all about?” John finally asked once the initial shock had faded. “Greg told me about what happened to you, Sherlock. So, is Adler dead?”

 

“Yes, she is. I killed her myself,” Sherlock answered, gathering his composure.

 

“You did what?!”

 

“She threatened Molly. I will kill anyone that does that.”

 

“Sherlock…”

 

“That’s not what I… We wanted to talk to you about something else, John. But these topics are connected… in a way. You should have a seat.” He did as instructed, a frown on his face. “I think you’re not managing to take care of Rosie on your own, John,” Sherlock started. “You are exhausted and disoriented as a consequence of sleep-deprivation. The stain on your shirt proves that you haven’t changed clothes in at least two days. That would put the last time you showered sometime around the last time you had a shift in the clinic, a couple of days ago. It also says that you have trouble feeding your daughter properly…”

“Mrs. Hudson helps me,” John objected, angrily.

 

“Mrs. Hudson is an old woman and it’s hard for her to spend so much time with a toddler. And I didn’t even have to deduce. She told me so herself.”

 

“So what are you saying, Sherlock?!”

 

“I think you should let Molly help you with Rosie.”

 

“No!”

 

John was furious now. Sherlock could see what was coming. After all,John’s behaviour was so predictable.

“And why not, John? Molly seems to handle Rosie better than anyone and you used to come to her for help quite often, if I recall correctly.  Why won’t you let her help you now? You would have more time, and Mrs. Hudson will definitely live longer if she has some time for herself as well.”

 

“You don’t understand, Sherlock! She taught Rosie to call her _mother_ ! Molly _is not_ her mother, Sherlock, Marry is! I won’t let Molly steal my daughter from us.”

 

“Mary is dead, John,” Mycroft said, lifting a now worried Rosie off her high chair. “And Molly didn’t teach Rosie anything. Rosamund heard other children calling for their mothers and assumed that that was what Molly was to her. Which is not a surprise if you think about it. Molly’s presence in her life was stronger than anyone else’s. Your daughter is a very smart child.”

 

Rosie started winning quietly, her eyes on her father. John’s visible state of despair was probably scaring her. Mycroft hugged her to him and took her to the kitchen with him.  

“Oh no, she did! She did teach her! Molly was so miserable and alone that she decided to steal my family!” John was clearly losing it, his exhaustion playing cruel jokes on him. Rosie started to cry, scared by her father’s behavior. “So now you two are coming here and telling me I must let my daughter forget her mother! And to let  a fucking suicidal woman take care of her?!”

 

It all happened so fast. Sherlock moved so quickly that John never saw it coming. A minute later he was wiping blood off his mouth. Mycroft went back from the living room a minute later, no Rosie in sight. Sherlock was about to tell his brother to go back to the kitchen and stay with the girl, but he knew that Mycroft would never allow him to stay alone with John now, not after seeing the state he was in.

 

“Don’t you dare speak of Molly like that,” Sherlock hissed. “None of this would have happened if you hadn’t left your daughter alone! Mycroft told you not to leave, but you decided otherwise. You called her suicidal just now, but we are all potential suicides  here. I am a former drug addict, and yet you come running after me every time there is a case. Looking for a bullet, are you? Mycroft is in the British government and his job is a war in itself! Mary was suicidal too, you know? She jumped in front of me and took a bullet that was meant for me! Molly is the sanest of us all!”

 

John was speechless. They could hear Rosie crying in the other. Mycroft went to get the girl.

 

“You can’t do it alone, John,” Sherlock whispered.

 

“Mommy…” Rosie whined in Mycroft’s arms.

Molly sat by the fireplace, wrapped up in a blanket and sipping cocoa from a big mug. She finally felt warm, after all those months of cold numbness. Her loneliness had gotten so deep at some point that the coldness became part of her, something that she carried buried deep inside her.

Martha Holmes was reading a book, sitting in a cozy armchair near Molly when they both heard the sound of a car outside the house.

 

“Tim! Meet our guests!” Mrs. Holmes cried to her husband.

 

“Are you expecting anyone?” Molly raised her brow.

 

Martha only smiled at her.

 

“Well, hello there!” Molly heard Tim’s voice from the hallway.

 

“Hello, father!” that was Mycroft speaking.

 

Molly listened to the voices and heard Sherlock and, to her surprise, John. Her heart began pounding crazily in her chest. She listened again and gasped. There was a child in the hallway, and the only child who could come to the Holmes estate with John was…

 

“Molly, look who we have here!” Tim exclaimed, entering the living room with Rosie in his arms.

She almost dropped her cup to the floor, but she managed to put it down on the coffee table. She felt tears burning in her eyes.

 

“Mommy!” Rosie squeaked, finally noticing her godmother was there.

 

Molly took Rosie from Tim and hugged her tightly.

 

“Mommy!”

 

“My darling girl!” Molly sobbed. “Look at you!  You’ve grown so much! Look at how beautiful you are!”

 

“Molly,” she heard a voice and froze. John Watson stood awkwardly in front of her.

 

She tried to give Rosie back to him, but he stopped her.

 

“No, no, that’s fine… Fine… I guess I need to apologize…” he looked at his feet for a moment, and then back at her.  “So I’d like to apologize, and then I would like to talk to you… If you don’t mind, of course.”

 

Martha told her she would find him by the river, and there he was. Sherlock was sitting on the thick branch that hung  over the water. He was still, probably lost somewhere inside his Mind Palace. He had left as soon as he saw that Rosie was finally reunited with her, and now Molly wanted to talk to him.

 

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked quietly.

 

He raised his head and looked at her in surprise.

 

“Molly… What are you doing here?”

 

“Do you have a place for me up there?”

 

He moved to the side and let her sit next to him, making sure that it was safe first.

“You are going to get cold,” he murmured.

 

“I’m fine, don’t worry.”

 

They sat in silence together and just looked down at the water for some time. She was completely aware of the fact that he was paying attention to her every move.  

“How’s Rosie?” he finally asked.

 

“She’s asleep now.”

 

He hummed in acknowledgement.

 

“We talked to John. He apologized for the things he said  and then asked me to be Rosie’s legal guardian.”

 

“You’ll be her mother at last.”

 

“You know, I think I have been her mother for a while already…”

 

“Good point.”

 

“Mycroft told me you made everything you could to speak some sense into John.”

 

“Like it is possible,” he smirked.

 

“Thank you, Sherlock.”

 

She watched him. He turned to her.

“You are welcome.”

 

Their faces were close now, and she felt how warm his breath was.

“You’ll get cold,” she whispered.

 

“I’ll be okay, Molly, don’t worry.”

 

“Please, come to the house…”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yes, yes, I am.”

 

Everyone was asleep. Molly moved her stuff to another bedroom, the one right next to the nursery.  Mr. Holmes had brought down a cradle from the attic for Rosie to sleep in. Molly was sitting by her window, looking at the garden. She finally felt whole.  She had a family now, Mr. and Mrs. Holmes were like parents who cared about her, Mycroft was like an elder brother, and she could easily say that he was her best friend now. He sometimes cared about her in a way that was far from brotherly. She had noticed that. But she did not want to think about it.  

 

Most importantly, she had a daughter now! Oh, how happy she was about that! She would tell Rosie about Mary when she was older, of course. And the girl would be able to decide how to call her- perhaps she’d change her mind then. But Molly would be her legal guardian soon.

 

And still... She felt like she was missing something. Just one thing. She’d thought that she could still live a normal life without that, but she found that it still haunted her.

She stood up from her chair and went to the door and out of her bedroom. Sherlock was sitting on the floor. She thought he was asleep at first, but a second later he turned his head to look at her. They stayed in silence for a while, their eyes locked together. And then she gave him her hand.

 

They entered her room and she closed the door behind them. He stood there, in the middle of her room,  looking somewhat lost.

“You need to rest, Sherlock,” she finally said.

 

“I was okay there, Molly, you didn’t need to worry about that.”

 

“Why won’t you go to your shed? Your mother told me you are living in the shed in the garden.”

 

“I’m… I start to panic there,” he confessed. “I need to be close to you. I’m… I’m afraid, Molly.”

 

She didn’t need to ask him why he was afraid.

 

“Sleep here tonight.”

 

He hesitated, but finally looked at her. There was so much hope in his eyes that she couldn’t help but smile.

  


They laid in her bed together, facing each other. She placed a hand on his cheek.

 

“Close your eyes and sleep. You are creeping me out by looking at me like that” she said with a smirk, and was satisfied to see him smile at her words.

 

“Okay,” he answered, closing his eyes.

 

She, however, kept looking at him, her smile growing wider and wider with every second that ticked by. They had so much to figure out yet. And she still had some trust issues when it came to him, there was no denying. But she was going to give it, _him_ , _them,_ one more chance. Because…

 

“Molly,” he suddenly said.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I love you so much…” he whispered.

 

“I know, Sherlock,” a tear fell down her cheek.  “I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi to me on tumblr: [ PolinaDuntonWrites](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/polinaduntonwrites).
> 
> I am in desperate need of friends and a good company!)


	16. Second thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Molly,” he said quietly. “I can see you’re having second thoughts… I am doing my best, I swear. I don’t want to do anything wrong this time. So please, tell me, what do you want me to do?”
> 
> Molly let Sherlock into her room, but is she ready to let him back into her life?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My darling beta [comeaftermejackrobinson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/comeaftermejackrobinson/pseuds/comeaftermejackrobinson) is on vacation, but she was still able to edit some more chapters for me. Thank you so much, dear! I hope, you'll have a great time on your trip!
> 
> As I told you, it is not too easy for Sherlock. It's not like Molly is okay and they still have a lot to fix between each other. This chapter is short, and the next one will come the day after tomorrow, I think. So, stay tuned) And remember that good comments enlighten my day :)

****

 

**Chapter 16.** ****  


**Second thoughts.**

The sound of a baby crying woke her up several hours later. She heard a whisper coming from the child’s room - it was Sherlock. She couldn’t make out what he was telling the little girl. The tone was serious, but it was also gentle. Molly couldn’t help but smile. She got out of bed and tiptoed to Rosie’s room. The door was ajar. She looked inside and was mesmerized by the sight of Sherlock holding their goddaughter in his arms. He was facing the window, rocking Rosie from side to side to help her fall back asleep.

 

  


“Everything’s fine, Watson. I promise you,” Sherlock was whispering to the still whining baby. “Your mother is here, but she needs some rest. Let’s let her sleep for now, shall we? Then, in the morning, I will tell you the most fascinating story about how I chased down a terrible villain in Mumbai. It happened many years ago. It’s worth falling asleep now to hear more about this later, trust me.”

 

  


“I’ve never heard of a better incentive to go back to sleep, Sherlock.” Molly laughed quietly, Sherlock’s back still to her. “However, I would like to hear that story first before I let you tell Rosie about this case of yours.”

 

Sherlock turned to look at her, a shy smile on his face. He lowered his eyes and fixed them on the floor, but this only lasted a second. He lifted up his head and looked at Molly.

 

“I didn’t want Rosie to wake you up,” he whispered. “It seems I’ve failed.”

 

“I’m always a light sleeper when she is around.” Molly smiled and took Rosie from his arms. The little girl calmed down immediately. Moments later, she was soundly asleep.

 

Sherlock watched Molly intently as she eased Rosie back in her crib.

 

“God, I missed her so much,” Molly sighed. “I even missed the sleepless nights.”

 

“You won’t be away from her ever again,” Sherlock murmured.

 

“I know. And I’ve got you and Mycroft to thank for that.”

 

They remained silent, looking at each other. Sherlock still looked broken. Molly was reminded of when she’d asked him if wanted to sleep on her bed with her that night. She was happy he’d stayed, but things were still complicated between them. If he asked her right then and there what she thought their future would be like, she wouldn’t be able to give him an answer. She was still hurt, and she still had trouble trusting him.  Molly loved Sherlock with all of her soul, but her heart had been broken so many times already, and she still was in so much pain… She was still afraid none of what was happening between them was real. Sherlock must have deduced all of this by the expression on her face, because he was the first to speak:

 

“Molly,” he said quietly. “I can see you’re having second thoughts… I am doing my best, I swear. I don’t want to do anything wrong this time. So please, tell me, what do you want me to do?”

 

They stepped out of Rosie’s room and went back to Molly’s bedroom. Molly sat on the bed and sighed heavily as she rubbed her temples.

 

“I don’t…” she started to say, but she immediately stumbled. “I don’t have any second thoughts, Sherlock. Actually, right now I don’t have any thoughts at all. I do not want to think of anything. Everything is so bloody complicated!”

 

He took one of the chairs and moved it in front of the bed. He sat down.

 

“Why don’t you start by answering the easiest question, Molly?” he asked, fixing his gaze on her.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Do you me to leave you alone? Do you want me to leave you be for now? Do you want me to leave you forever?”

 

“When I told you I didn’t want to be around you, you came here with me anyway,” she smirked.

 

“But I still kept my distance from you, didn’t I?”

 

“Somehow you aura seems to be larger than this cottage’s territory. I always knew right away when you were around.”

 

“Would you have prefered I wasn’t around?”

 

“No!” Molly exclaimed. She rubbed her eyes. “That’s the problem! I don’t want you to go away, but your presence scares the shit out of me, Sherlock! I’m just so afraid of being alone again! Even now, when I have Rosie and your parents, and Mycroft,” Sherlock frowned at the mention of his older brother. “Even now that I also have John, though I doubt we will ever be back to being real friends again,” she added. “But he gave me Rosie, and for that I will be forever grateful to him. But you, your ability to ruin me with your denial… That’s terrifying.”

 

“I won’t leave you, Molly What do I need to do for you to believe me? Please, tell. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

 

“You do know that you sound completely out of character, do you?” Molly smirked.

 

“I don’t give a damn how I sound, Molly. Please, answer my question.”

 

“I don’t know, Sherlock! I hear the words you’re saying. But it’ll take some time for me to believe in you.”

 

He frowned, his jaw twitching.

 

“I could just say OK to all of this, stay away from you and wait. But I am too selfish to do that, Molly. You should know that I’ll always be there for you, no matter what. I don’t care how much time it takes. But what I need to know, Molly… Do I actually have a chance with you? Make me wait if you want, drag me through hell if you must. I will willingly accept whatever form of punishment you think suits me. I will take whatever you give to me because God, I know I deserve it. But I want to know if there’s a chance for us after everything that’s happened. You told me you loved me, and of course you don’t owe anything to me, but please tell me, is it too late?”

 

Molly frowned at him. Truth be told, she had waited so many years for him to just notice her… This didn’t seem fair. He made it sound like she wanted to hurt him on purpose, and that was far from the truth. She wanted to better understand herself, she wanted to feel worthy regardless of Sherlock. But there he stood, broken and hurt. She realized that he would never be able to change completely, although he did seem different now. But she needed time to see how far those changes could go. There was a part of her that wished she could stop overthinking this. There was a part of her that just wanted to indulge a little bit and drawn in the bliss that was being with him. But there was a bigger part of her, one that was guided by common sense, that was telling her to be careful.

  
  
There was this boy Molly had dated back in college. Robert. He’d been a very handsome, very nice boy. And he’d been so romantic. But for some reason she hadn’t liked him right away. Robert, on the other hand, had fallen in love with Molly almost upon meeting her - he had told her as much. He’d started to court her, bought her flowers and her favorite brand of candy. He had taken her to museums and brought her coffee from a shop that was on the other side of town. He’d even written her a bloody poem, for God’s sake! It hadn’t been good or anything, but she’d thought it a nice gesture at the time. So she had surrendered after some time and begun dating him. And after a while she realized that she’d fallen in love with him, her initial aversion turned into sincere devotion. They’d moved in together, she had even started dreaming of  starting a family with him… But Robert had other plans. A year into living together, he’d told Molly that their relationship lacked romance and that he had fallen for another woman. The woman in question hadn’t been so keen of Robert at the time, but he’d been determined to fight for her. And so that was how Robert left Molly. She had to stay alone in the flat they shared and pay for all the expenses after he moved out. He had been after the thrill of the chase - the moment Molly had decided to settle down with him he’d gotten bored and fallen for someone else.

 

Sherlock was not like Robert, of course. But Molly was scared nonetheless. What if she let him (even more) into her life and he got bored after a while? What if he got tired of her and left her? That would definitely break her heart, and Molly knew that she wouldn’t be able to survive any more heartache.   


But as she looked into Sherlock’s eyes, Molly suddenly realized why she’d remembered Robert all of a sudden. They had both been so young back then, and Robert had been so immature. Sherlock was a grown up man, already in his forties, but he was almost as immature as her ex boyfriend had been. After her failed suicide attempt, Molly had understood one thing: she had to stop relying on immature people. Truth be told, that was a mistake more than one person could relate to. Everyone around Sherlock often expected him to behave like an adult and have the same common sense they all did. Their mistake was that they refused to admit Sherlock was different. It seemed like his mind had always followed a different path, worked a different way. He was a genius, of course, but he was not a mature person.

 

There were two big questions she had to answer now. The first one was: was there a chance Sherlock could change completely and begin acting as a proper adult? And the second question was: what if that never happened? In that case, would Molly be able to stay by his side?

 

What she needed now was time to ponder these questions. But there was Sherlock, wanting to know if they stood a chance. Molly did know what the answer to that question was.    


 

“You should know by now that if there’s anyone in the world willing to give you a chance, that someone is me. So yes, Sherlock. Of course there’s a chance for us. But I still need time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, find me on tumblr [PolinaDuntonWrites](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/polinaduntonwrites).


	17. Intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly is exploring her new normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is not too full of events, but it is a needed intermission. There will be more as soon as my dear beta comeaftermejackrobinson comes back from her holiday) This fic is nearing the end, but there will be several chapters more.

****

**Chapter 17.**

**Intermission.**

 

She woke up again in the morning to some noise coming from downstairs. Sherlock was not in bed, and Molly couldn’t hear anything from Rosie’s room. She assumed that both Rosie and Sherlock were together with the rest of the family.

“Sherlock, this story is definitely not suitable for children her age!” Molly heard Martha’s strict voice as she approached the kitchen.

  
“I think she’s heard worse things, mother,” Sherlock noted grumpily.

  
“And that’s not something to be proud of!”

  
“Rosie should be able to distinguish a villain from a decent person!”   


“I guess our mother is right, brother mine. Little Rosamund here doesn’t need to hear all the details.”

  
“Believe me, Mrs. Holmes, the only way to stop Sherlock from telling Rosie the whole story is by taking her away from him and into a different room,” John said. He sounded tired.

  
Molly rolled her eyes before entering the kitchen.   


“Good morning, everyone!” Molly greeted them, smiling at the sight of her self-made family, all together sitting around the kitchen table.

  
“Oh, Molly dear! Thank God, you are here!” Mrs. Holmes exclaimed.   


“I guess you have a problem with the story about the villain in Mumbai?” Molly smirked.  


“Oh, my God! Don’t tell me you approve of it!”  


Molly just laughed.  


Breakfast was nice, and Molly was especially thankful to everybody for not asking any question concerning herself and Sherlock staying in the same room again. However, they did mention a topic that made Molly uncomfortable the minute they brought it up.

“So, darling,” Martha said “Are you sure you do not want to stay with us for a bit longer? I honestly wouldn’t mind if you stayed here forever, this place is so much brighter when you are around!”  


“Thank you, Martha,” Molly smiled at the kind words, a warm feeling flooding her. “I would  love to stay, but I have to get back to work. I spent too much time away already. I’m afraid I may have forgotten how to properly cut a body. It’s not that my patients would mind, but,” she stumbled, remembering that not everyone enjoyed her sense of humor. There it was, another morbid joke from her. How long had it been since she had been told not to make jokes.

  
Molly raised her eyebrows, an expression of concern in her face. She expected her words would be met by uncomfortable silence. It was what always happened when she said something like that.  But to her surprise, the only person who looked embarrassed was John. Sherlock and Mycroft were smirking, Mrs. Holmes was smiling widely and Tim let out a groan that sounded a lot like a laugh.

  
“I’m sorry,” she decided to apologize anyway. “I was told once not to make jokes.”

  
Sherlock frowned at her words and tried to say something, but was interrupted by his mother.

“Oh, come on, Molly! I love your sense of humor! You work at the morgue, for God’s sake. And I honestly don’t get it why everyone is so subtle about death! We’re all a little bit afraid of it, and the best coping mechanism to deal with fear is humor. So, let’s stop being so snobbish, everyone! And that includes you, John!”

  
Molly noticed John blushing at Martha’s words and let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding.

  
“But, anyway, if you go back to London, where are you going to be living?”

  
That was a good question, Molly thought.  She had a flat she could return to, of course. But thinking about this now... Living in that flat would only remind her of what she had tried to do. There still was a bloody bottle of champagne waiting for her in the fridge, the her bedroom was still cold and empty. But she didn’t know where else to go, and that was as terrifying as going back to the place where she had planned her death.

  
“There is a flat not far from Barts,” she suddenly heard Sherlock saying. “Mycroft and I were going to discuss it with Molly later, but since  you brought up the subject up, mother, I think it’s okay to say that if Molly likes it, it can be rented out for her. Rent will not be different than what she is paying for her place now.”     
“It’s unlikely to find a flat close to Barts for the same money I’m paying to my landlord at the moment,” she murmured. “There’s no need to pull any strings or use any influences, believe me. Am I right to assume you and Mycroft will be talking the owners into asking for less money? You are right, I don’t want to go back to my flat. But I’d be happy to move into any other place as long as I can afford it by myself. I don’t care if it’s far from my workplace. I could stay at a hotel for some time, at least until I can find something suitable to live.”

  
“Oh, that’s nonsense!” Mycroft huffed. “That was the reason why we wanted to talk to you in private. We knew that otherwise you would decline our offer! Molly, the owners of the flat we’ve found were in a hurry to leave London! Oh, no, no, that’s nothing of the sort,” Mycroft was quick to  explain when he saw the expression on Molly’s face. “They weren’t running away because of some shady activities or anything of the sort. The man got a job offer from a firm in Canada and they wanted to rent the flat to someone very quickly. All I did was asking Anthea to find a good place for you on short notice. Those were the only strings I pulled, as you’ve put it. She might have awoken the poor couple at midnight when she called to speak about renting the flat. They were frustrated at most, but there wasn’t anything else to it.”   
  
“Can you both promise me that no harm was done to anyone?” Molly asked the Holmes brothers.

  
Martha smirked, looking at her confused children.

“Yes, Molly I promise you, your landlord will be absolutely satisfied with all the conditions of your agreement should you choose to accept it,” Mycroft finally confirmed. Molly looked at Sherlock and saw him nodding as well.  
  
A couple of days later, Molly still couldn’t believe she was in her new flat. It was so big that even after bringing all of her furniture from her old place there still was some space left.

“Mycroft, you can’t tell me that this place costs the same as the one I was renting before,” she complained to him.

“Well, technically, Molly dear, you are paying an extra one hundred pounds per month...”

“I should be paying at least an extra one thousand pounds per month, Mycroft!” The eldest Holmes brother rolled his eyes. “Oh, don’t you dare rolling your eyes! You promised me there were no funny business and that you weren’t doing anyone any harm!”

“And no one was, Molly!” Mycroft finally interrupted her. “I promised myself I would never lie to you. And, believe me, your new landlord is completely happy with what he’s getting out of this deal. I know it’s hard to believe, but you’ll have to do so anyway, for God’s sake! I know, it’s hard to change one’s way of thinking, especially when you’ve  been through so much. But sometimes good things just happen, Molly! I can’t believe that I’m telling you this, but sometimes you can just get lucky! Sometimes everything is just fine without any reason. So, please, spare me this exhausting discussion, Molly. This place is for you to rent for the amount of money you were told you had to pay. End of discussion.”  


He looked very annoyed, and Molly finally yielded.  


“Fine,” she hissed.  


“Good. Now, let me show you the nursery. Rosamund will like it in there, I believe…”  
  
She was getting into the car to drive back to the Holmes estate when Mycroft stopped her, holding her by the arm.

  
“One more thing, Molly,” he said when she looked at him inquiringly, “You asked me to find you a good therapist. Here…” Mycroft handed her a business card.

  
“Thanks…” Molly stammered. “Is she…?”

  
“She is from the MI-6, so you can tell her everything. She’s cleared, I checked her myself.”

  
“Thank you, Mycroft, I really appreciate it.”   


“You are welcome, Molly, you are welcome.”  
  
And that’s how everything started to fall back into place. Her life was still not easy, but Molly was getting there. When her sick leave was finally over, she returned to her new flat with Rosie and came back to work. Molly was afraid that her old working place would bring back painful memories, but somehow she found herself happy working with cadavers again and spending time in the lab. She tried to understand what exactly had changed and realized that the only difference now was that she wasn’t alone anymore.   
Rosie was with her on the regular basis now. Being the girl’s legal guardian, Molly could apply for a place in the crèche for her. That meant Molly could be with her daughter during her  breaks, which brought her so much pleasure. She was always happy to see her little girl reaching out to her every time she dropped by the crèche. Sometimes she would go there alone, and sometimes Sherlock would join her.

  
Their relationship was odd now. She had asked him to give her time and space, and he had agreed to do so. That didn’t mean that they didn’t see each other. He visited her at the morgue often. They worked together on cases, sometimes he brought her some samples for his experiments and was always eager to tell her about them. She enjoyed listening to him, always marveling at how his eyes lightened up when he was interested in the subject they were discussing. Oh, how much she loved him in those moments! It almost made her forget everything that had happened...

If she was completely honest with herself, she still loved him deeply, but she was still terrified of getting hurt. She couldn’t help it, the fear won her over. Sometimes his hand would brush over her sleeve and she’d get goosebumps, almost melting into the sensation. But fear would always strike back, and she would practically jump away from him, as if distancing herself from his body could protect her. She was afraid she’d end up giving in to her emotions. He always looked hurt when she did that. It only lasted a second, but it was there and she could see it. He was clearly struggling with his feelings and trying to hide this fact  from her all at the same time. However, she refused to feel guilty about that. She had waited for him for so long that he owed her this. She deserved to be granted the time and space she had asked him for.

But no matter how many times she told herself that she wouldn’t feel guilty, the fact that she was hurting Sherlock still bothered her so much. She tried to discuss it with her new therapist The woman said that Molly had every right to take as much time as she wanted, but no matter how useful the therapy was for her, Molly still couldn’t find her peace with what was going on. And it was the only thing in her new life that made her terribly worried and unhappy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi to me on tumblr: PolinaDuntonWrites


	18. Six o'clock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is on the edge...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, my darling beta [comeaftermejackrobinson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/comeaftermejackrobinson/pseuds/comeaftermejackrobinson) is finally home and was rested enough to edit this chapter. Thank you so much, darling!!! 
> 
> I really hope to finish with this fic soon. Will bring these two to the happy ending, but there will still be some bumps on the road.
> 
> Especially in this chapter.

****

**Chapter 18.**

**Six o'clock.**

Everything hurt. There was nothing wrong with him physically, he knew it for sure, but he was still in pain, and it was completely unbearable. He had never believed in the existence of a soul before. He had always assumed that it was a fairy tale, a way to manipulate people with guilt and other unnecessary emotions, and Sherlock had never been one to fall for that. But now, knowing that it was possible to feel so much pain when there was nothing wrong with his body, the idea that souls were real was beginning to take shape in his mind.   Because that was exactly what was wrong with him. His soul had been torn into pieces and it hurt badly.

  
Molly had asked him for time and space, and he was being respectful to her wishes. He was trying his best not to push her. He knew he had to make an effort to be subtle and gentle (two words that had never been used in the same sentence as his name before), but every minute spent away from her was a torture.

  
Of course, there still were cases that he took on eagerly. Now that he knew Molly would be safe, he could go back to focusing on his work- the only thing that helped him forget about the torture he was going through. But after every case was solved, all he had felt was his pain. Time and time again, he found himself alone and torn apart . Cases often meant that he had to go to the morgue, and on those occasions he would go see Molly. She had never said all interactions were off limits or that they couldn’t spend any time together, just that she was not ready to start a relationship with him. Sometimes he would bring her some of his experiments to work together on them or just to show her something he found amusing. On those days, he was able to read her face again and could easily see that she was happy when he went over for a visit.

 

Sometimes it seemed everything was completely normal, even better than it had been before. It was in  moments like those that he felt completely, utterly happy. But it was when he touched her, whether by accident or on purpose, that she would tense and jump away from him. It was obvious that she did not want him to touch her.  She didn’t do it on purpose, he knew, and perhaps that was what hurt the most.   
He tried to fight the pain. He spent much of his free time with Rosie, and sometimes he would go to Molly and they would entertain the girl together. Sometimes John, still exhausted from dealing with a fussy toddler, would leave Rosamund with Sherlock. Even with Rosie spending almost all her free time with Molly, sometimes the situation was still too much for John to handle. Watson was Sherlock’s good friend, but he was a terrible father, and soon enough Sherlock started to feel that Rosie was more his daughter than John’s. The feeling was new. Never before had he thought about himself as father, but somehow now this was an idea that warmed his heart. Maybe someday he could have a child together with Molly. If Molly let him. If Molly had him.

  
Six months after she tried to commit suicide, Molly still wasn’t allowing Sherlock to get any closer to her. He accepted it, of course. Sometimes he wished he could no longer feel, he wanted to go back to being a machine, being what he used to when he first met Molly: someone incapable of caring. Someone incapable of loving. But he knew it was too late for that. It was impossible.

 

There was only one way he could forget himself completely. The answer was hidden in the sharp end of a needle, but he couldn’t do it. Relapsing would destroy everything, including what probably was his last chance to be with Molly. If he turned back to drugs and anyone found out, then he wouldn’t be able to see his goddaughter anymore and, after everything that had happened, Sherlock felt that no one would be there for him this time around. Not even Mycroft.

  
His brother was proving to be another source of pain in Sherlock’s life. Sherlock hadn’t realized how important his newly developed friendship with Mycroft was for him. Ever since Sherrinford, Mycroft had shown him immense support, and together they had struggled through their family issues. But that had been before Molly and Mycroft became best friends, and now Sherlock could not stand to be near his brother.

Mycroft had promised him that he would never try and become something more with Molly, that he only wanted to be friends with her. Nothing more. Sherlock had believed him for some time. But now Mycroft’s words did not seem so true anymore.    
A month and a half after destroying Irene Adler’s organization, it was Christmas time. Things seemed to be back to normal (or as close to normal as they could be given everything that had happened), and everyone had agreed to celebrate the festivities with a get together at the Holmes household. Detective Inspector Lestrade and Sally Donovan had also been invited. She had never been a part of Sherlock’s inner circle, but now he thought of her as some sort of antagonist whose presence was essential for the development of every story). John and Mrs. Hudson had been there, as had Rosie and Molly. And Mycroft, of course.

 

After everything that happened, Sherlock’s parents finally forgave their eldest son. As a result, Mycroft was polite and uncommonly cheerful. Molly greeted Sherlock, and he noticed that she was sincerely pleased to see him. It warmed his heart and he _almost_ felt happy.  However, this happiness was short-lived. They talked for a bit and then Molly shifted her attention to Mycroft.

 

Sherlock watched them the entire evening, watched her laughing at things his brother said to her, and watched Molly telling Mycroft her own stories. Mycroft wasn’t able to take his eyes off of her. Never in all the years he had known him had Sherlock been able to read his brother so easily. Mycroft was an open book, something he had never allowed himself to be. But what hurt Sherlock most was the fact that Molly touched his brother. She placed her hand on Mycroft’s arm while laughing at some of his stupid stories. She didn’t jump away from him in confusion, didn’t frown at him. She just kept laughing. At one point, Sherlock even felt tempted to leave. When he was alone, he hid in his childhood bedroom, and that was where his mother found him several hours later.

  
“Don’t make it into something bigger than it actually is.”

 

”Sherlock was lying in his bed, and Mrs. Holmes put her warm hand on his forehead. The gesture  reminded him of his childhood. His mother’s hands were always so warm... After all those years pretending that he’d forgotten what his mother’s gentle touche felt like, this was pure bliss.

  
“What are you talking about?” he asked, eyes closed.

“Oh, you know perfectly well what I am talking about, Sherlock.” His mother made a small pause and silence filled the room. He still had his eyes closed, but he could have sworn there was a sad smile on her face. “Molly doesn’t love Mycroft.”

  
“She feels better when she’s with him than she does when she’s  with me, though.”

“He is her best friend. She is just comfortable with him.”  


“Well, she is not comfortable with me,” Sherlock hissed, brushing his mother’s hand away and sitting up on the bed.

“Perhaps she isn’t, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you, honey.”  


Sherlock sighed, rubbing his eyes.  


“Don’t get me wrong, mother,” he said, “I know that I deserve this. Molly suffered for so much and during so many years because of me... I have no right to judge her. But I am not as strong as she is...” he stumbled for a second, trying to hold back on the tears that had started to cloud his vision. He could feel them burning his eyes. “I am not as strong as she is, mother, and I am not that patient. I won’t do anything she doesn’t want to, I’ll never do anything but what she’s asked of me, but the truth is that I cannot stand all these... feelings!”  


He was crying now, tears streaming down his face. His mother placed a hand on Sherlock’s shaking shoulder.  


“I wish I could take all your pain away, son,” she whispered, and he closed his eyes under her gentle touch once again, “But all you can do now, if you still want to have Molly, of course, is give her some time. I am sorry, but there is no other option, darling.”

All he could do was nod.

  
“I’ll tell them you had to go upstairs to cope with your headache.”   


“I don’t have a headache, mother,” he huffed.  


“Well, there was a time when you didn’t have feelings either, but look at you now. Headache comes together with the ability to feel happiness and love, darling. That’s the way nature keeps everything balanced.”  


“I never thought I would be the one to say this, but nature sucks,” Sherlock smirked.  


“I would tell you to watch your language, young man, but... yes, yes it does.”  
  
He didn’t go back downstairs that night. After Mrs. Holmes left, he was finally able to fall asleep. He was woken by the sound of a door cracking. Someone was in his room. It took Sherlock two and a half seconds to recognize Molly’s footsteps. He froze at first, but then he decided to pretend that he was sleeping. Molly had brought him too many unbearable emotions earlier, and if he wanted to stay sane for the next couple of days he needed rest.

  
He felt her weight on the side of his bed, and he thanked whatever higher powers existed for the fact that he had always been a good actor. It took all of his willpower not to twitch when he felt the gentle touch of her hand on his forehead. It lasted only for a moment, but he felt goosebumps forming on the back of his neck. He heard the sound of something solid being placed  on the night table next to his bed, and then the sound of Molly’s footsteps leaving the room. He opened his eyes immediately after she left and he reached out to the table where the neatly wrapped present was waiting for him. There was a note attached to it.   


_Dearest Sherlock, love Molly xxx._

His shoulders started shaking uncontrollably.  


_Oh, God, how many times can a man cry during one bloody evening?_ he thought, fighting back his tears.   


He opened the present. Inside the box, lying on red velvet, there was a very elegant watch. Molly’s taste in clothing had always raised questions in Sherlock’s mind. She often made mistakes choosing her outfits, something she believed was a direct consequence of her father having to bring her up all by himself. Some of the clothes she wore were nice and cheerful, but sometimes she also wore things that were too practical and hid her pleasant forms from the world in the most unfashionable way. Things had changed after Anthea had brought Molly a whole new wardrobe. Molly had always been a fast learner in every field (except when it came to her relationship with him, of course). She had learned a lot from Anthea’s more classic taste, and Sherlock couldn’t remember the last time he had seen her wearing one of those dreadful jumpers.  But this watch... It was perfect! He couldn’t have bought a better one himself.

Tears were still falling from his eyes when he put the watch on. She had always been very smart, his Molly. He got the hint. A watch. She still needed time. Sighing, he got back into bed, the watch around his wrist. If she needed time, he would give her time.  
  
However, the months that followed brought around no changes whatsoever. Winter ended and spring began, and his relationship with Molly was still on the same page. Sometimes he could see how her eyes shone bright every time she saw the watch on his wrist. It warmed his heart. But she still tensed every time he touched her (which he did not do on purpose, it was always accidental). The lab was small and their hands or arms would brush some time. He couldn’t help it. Those moments were terribly painful for Sherlock. He was starting to lose hope. His craving for a fix got stronger with each passing day.

  
He tried to stick to the idea that even if she didn’t want him to touch her, she still wanted to see him. That’s why he kept coming to Barts regularly, even on occasions when he had nothing to do there. He would still bring her coffee every time, but it was hard now to smile around her. He was afraid that if he stopped doing these things she would think that he was giving up on her again. But then one day he realized how very wrong he was. How wrong he’d been all along.

 

He arrived at the morgue with two cups of coffee, like he always did. He froze when he saw Mycroft was there, standing in front of the slab while Molly worked on a body. They were deep into conversation, discussing what seemed to be a rather joyful topic. His brother’s smile was bright. _Molly’s_ smile was bright. She looked so beautiful, smiling at another man, those big glasses she often wore at work covered in blood.

 

They both looked surprised when Sherlock walked in.    
“Oh, hi, Sherlock,” Molly smiled at him. “Got a case again?”

  
“I… Uhm… Yes, yes… A case… Here’s your coffee, Molly.”   


“Oh, thank you! Just put it there,” she asked with a node of her head to indicate a nearby counter.  


“Mycroft,” Sherlock greeted his brother through gritted teeth, placing the cup on the counter not far from Molly.  


Mycroft frowned at his brother but nodded politely to acknowledge his greeting.  


“Can you imagine?” Molly asked cheerfully. “Mycroft has reserved a table at _Murano_ for my birthday! And he also asked Anthea to take me shopping for proper dress! Oh, I can’t wait, Sherlock! My therapist told me some time ago that I need to find small pleasures in life. So I sorta took up cooking. Can’t believe that I’m telling you that, but I guess I’ve become a foodie!” she laughed at her own words. “Of course, everybody from our small circle is invited. Will you come? It’s next Saturday.”   


Of course he knew when her birthday was! And he had figured out she had taken up cooking. And he had been planning to surprise her with a meaningful gift, had spent nights wondering what she might like! And there she was, planning her birthday together with his elder brother.  


“I… Uhm…” he stammered, trying to find the right words.  


“Oh, I’m sorry to jump on you like that, Sherlock!” she laughed lightly. “It’s just that we were discussing when our weekly meeting with Mycroft should take place this week, and he told me about his present!”  


“Oh, did he?” Sherlock narrowed his eyes.  


He had no idea that Mycroft and Molly were having something called “weekly meetings”. Molly hadn’t spent a single day alone with him, but there she was, having regular encounters with his brother.  


“Well, yes, brother mine,” Mycroft looked confused, and Sherlock could tell that he didn’t want to show it. “I wanted to surprise Molly, but had to reconsider.”  


Everything hurt.  


“I… I have just remembered something important… There is a lead… Sorry,” Sherlock didn’t look back as he was leaving the morgue. The last thing he heard was Molly’s question concerning his presence at her birthday party. He didn’t answer. He had to go back home immediately.

 

He needed a fix.  


There was one secret place, a hole hidden in the wall of his bedroom. No one knew about it. He had been meaning to get rid of it, he really had. But the truth was that with everything that had been happening, he had completely forgotten about it.

 

But now he remembered. Now it was the only thing he could think about.

 

And everything hurt so badly that all he wanted was to feel the sting of the needle on his skin just seconds before finding release and relief. Just seconds before melting into a blessed narcotic haze.

  


He was at home in a blink. Mrs. Hudson was away, John was working.Rosie had been staying with Molly since the beginning of the week.

 

He was alone.

 

It was perfect.

 

How easy it would be to stop the pain now.

  
He rolled up the sleeve of his shirt and then loaded the syringe. He was about to have a shot when his phone rang. Had it been his usual ringtone he wouldn’t have paid any attention to it. But this one was different. He had to pick up this time, he could not ignore this call. Groaning, he put the needle aside. After all, he could still get his fix once he got off the phone. The needle would still be there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi to me on tumblr: [PolinaDuntonWrites](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/polinaduntonwrites)


	19. Missing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly's birthday is here. But where is Sherlock?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short intermission. Well, something is going on there, but we are getting to the end of the fic very-very fast.
> 
> Thank you, my darling [comeaftermejackrobinson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/comeaftermejackrobinson/pseuds/comeaftermejackrobinson) for being my beta and, dare I say, my friend from very-very far away. This girl is a great writer, by the way. Her stories are full of damn good angst and will probably tear your soul apart. Check sherlolly ["The Experiment" here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10168142/chapters/22588028). And if you are a fan of "The Good Place", comeaftermejackrobinson has started [the new Tahani/Jasson fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16150073/chapters/37735154) that is definitely worth reading even if you don't ship the pairing.
> 
> Thank you everyone who is leaving comments and kudos here! They always warm my heart. :)
> 
> Mind the implied drug use mention in this chapter. Drugs are awful. Never use them!

****

**Chapter 18.**

**Missing.**

 

Molly hadn’t seen Sherlock since the day he left the morgue in a hurry. Mycroft had surprised her with an invitation to _Murano_ , and she had been so happy that she hadn’t paid any attention to Sherlock’s quick departure. However, she had started to get worried when Sherlock didn’t come to the morgue two days later. This behaviour wouldn’t have surprised her a couple of years ago, but it did now. A lot of things had happened to both of them. Things that had changed him. Now he usually sent her a text if he got caught up in a case, always let her know where he was, how he was. Now that she thought about it, they’d been in touch every day for the last few months, and he’d always been the first to initiate contact- he had never written to her first before. She hadn’t noticed how much she expected him to communicate with her on a daily basis until he disappeared. If she didn’t send a text first or if he was too busy to drop by the morgue, he would always find a way to check on her. How hadn’t she noticed this progress in their relationship? Why was she so confused by this realization?

She had last seen him on Monday. It was Wednesday now and there was no trace of Sherlock. She tried to send him a text, even attempted to call him, but it went straight to voicemail. Worried out of her mind, she decided to phone Mycroft.

“Molly, hello!”  


There had been a time when Mycroft’s greeting were different. He would sound dry and emotionless every time he picked up the phone, and their conversations would stick strictly to business. But it wasn’t the case anymore. Mycroft had become her closest friend, something like an older brother. He cared about her and he was good to her. They had developed some sort of emotional connection during the past six months, and Molly was happy to have Mycroft as her friend. They met every week for dinner, and sometimes Mycroft visited her and Rosie at their new flat. She had never felt anything remotely romantic for the elder Holmes brother, never had crossed her mind the idea to pursue an intimate relationship with him. But when Mycroft was around, Molly knew she was safe. It warmed her heart.

  
They talked a lot about Sherlock and about her feelings for Mycroft’s brother. Mycroft often tried to convince Molly that Sherlock had changed for the better and that she had nothing to worry about. However, Mycroft knew Molly was not ready to let Sherlock back into her life. He never pushed her or made her feel pressured to make a decision. Molly valued Mycroft’s friendship and trusted him with her life.   


“Mycroft, hi!” she said, sounding clearly nervous.

“Molly, what’s wrong?” Mycroft asked, concerned.  


“Nothing! Nothing is wrong, Mycroft… Well, I hope that nothing is wrong… I just wanted to ask you… Have you seen Sherlock lately?”  


He was silent for a second.  


“Last time I saw him was last Monday when I went to visit you. I haven’t heard anything from him since then. But I have people watching him, and I haven’t received any reports that we should worry about.”  


That should have sounded relieving, Molly knew, but for some reason she couldn’t relax.  


“Well, he hasn’t texted or called me for two days and he won’t answer his phone, so I started to get nervous,” she tried to sound cheerful, but failed. “Can you please check on him?”  


“Yes, of course, Molly. Don’t worry,” Mycroft’s voice sounded calm and that helped Molly to relieve some of the tension she was feeling. “I don’t think something is wrong, because otherwise I would have been already informed. He must be busy with a case. You know how he gets when he comes across an interesting puzzle.”  


“But he…”  


“I know that he frequently texts you, but sometimes Sherlock will still get lost in his cases, he’ll still forget to let us know he’s alright,” Mycroft interrupted her. “I’ll check on him and will let you know if something is wrong. Do you still have an appointment with Anthea tomorrow?”  


Molly had completely forgotten about this. Mycroft’s PA was supposed to take her shopping for her birthday. She had been too worried about Sherlock’s whereabouts to remember her plans with Anthea. Truth be told, the woman had become a close friend of Molly’s as well. Mycroft knew this, and he had probably assigned Anthea for this mission as an excuse to give her a day off work to spend with Molly.

  


“Oh, yes, yes, we are meeting at noon.”  


“Good, have fun, Molly!”  


“Mycroft, I still think it is slightly out of character for you to say something like ‘have fun’, don’t you think?”  


“You are probably right, Molly. I even feel something strange on my tongue after I said that,” Mycroft smirked at his own admission.  


They said their goodbyes and hung up. All Molly had to do now was wait until he called with news on Sherlock, if there were any.

It wasn’t until later that evening that Mycroft sent her a text.

_Molly, Sherlock is not at home, but I’m sure there is nothing to worry about. “Have fun” tomorrow and prepare for your birthday. MH_   


She smirked at this and typed a reply. Maybe Mycroft had been right from the start. Maybe Sherlock was just too caught up in a new case.

She spent the following day shopping with Anthea. They had a wonderful time. Molly bought herself a gorgeous dress for her birthday party. Things were changing in her life, and she felt completely different from the person she’d been six months before. She could almost say she was happy now. _Almost._ She thought about Sherlock a lot. He still had not contacted her, and it didn’t matter what Mycroft said. Molly was nervous, she could not help it.   


The time came for her birthday celebration. She wore her dress for the party at _Murano._ Anthea had helped her with her makeup. Molly knew she looked great, and for the first time in her life she felt completely confident about it.

She was met with warm, cheerful greetings from all of her friends. She remembered how alone she had felt the year before. Rosie had been the only person she’d spent her birthday with. But now there were two tables full of people wishing her a happy birthday! However, she couldn’t help but notice that one seat at the table was still empty. Sherlock was not there. He hadn’t come.

  
Molly had not talked to Mycroft again after he sent her that text telling her she shouldn’t worry, that everything was fine. She looked at him questioningly. Mycroft made a small gesture with his hand, and Molly understood they would talk about it later. She nodded in agreement and turned her attention back to her food. It was so delicious she couldn’t have described it as anything but ‘glorious’.

Molly invited everyone to her place once dinner was over. Her new flat was spacious, and she was happy to have everyone at her home. Tim and Martha politely declined her invitation- they were too tired and they had a long way ahead of them before they got home. Mycroft had arranged everything so that they had a car available.

  
“Is he okay?” Molly asked Mycroft after everyone had settled in her living room. The two of them were outside, in the balcony. It would do them good to get some fresh air while they finally talked about Sherlock.

  
Mycroft frowned. Molly felt her nervousness coming back to her.   


“Mycroft…”  


“Molly, I didn’t want to worry you, but I promised not to lie to you, so I will have to tell you everything now,” he sighed.  


“What is going on?”  


“Molly, I have no idea where Sherlock is at the moment. We’ve lost track of him.”  


She felt her palms getting wet.  


“What do you mean you’ve lost track of him?!” she exclaimed.  


“The day you called me..., I went to the Baker Street to check on Sherlock. He wasn’t there. Everything in the living room seemed to be where it should, but his bedroom was a mess. My people didn’t see him leaving the flat, which can only mean that he changed his appearance and did not use the front door. There must be some secret exit we were not aware of. I assumed that he was on a case because that would be the only reasonable explanation for his change of appearance. I sent you a message right away, as you now, but then I saw something that made me reconsider my deductions…”  


He was clearly trying to find the proper words to break the news to her, Molly could tell.  


“Mycroft, spill it!” she ordered, starting to get angry.  


“Molly, there was a syringe full of heroine solution on his night table. Unused. I think he had a stash in his bedroom. Old habits do die hard, they say…”

“Are you telling me…”  


“I am telling you that I have no idea where Sherlock is and that I don’t know if he’s relapsed or not.”  


“Mycroft, why on Earth didn’t you tell me this? Why on Earth did you not tell us all anything at all?! Are Martha and Tim aware of it?!”  


“I didn’t want to worry you... or them. None of my sources think Sherlock left the country, so we are looking for him everywhere around Britain. He still might be on a case. I didn’t tell you all of this before because I didn’t want to spoil your birthday.”  


“Spoil my birthday?! What a hell are you talking about, Mycroft?! Sherlock is probably lying somewhere half-dead!”  


“And my people are looking for him, Molly! I’ve got my best men on this, believe me! You wouldn’t have been able to provide any additional help if I had told you about this before now!”  


“But I had a right to know! _I have a right to know._ I’m worried about him, Mycroft! You know how I feel about him!”   


Mycroft sighed heavily.  


“Molly, I understand that you are concerned… And I know how you feel. Your reaction right now is exactly why I decided to keep this from you. This is why I thought it would be best to keep you from knowing about this situation. You are too fragile…”  


“Too fragile? For God’s sake, Mycroft!”  


“Is everything fine, guys?” she heard Lestrade’s concerned voice from the entrance to the balcony. Greg was standing there, John Watson behind him. “We heard a… noise.”  


Molly turned to look at the men and said:

“Sherlock is missing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi to me on tumblr: [PolinaDuntonWrites](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/polinaduntonwrites).


	20. Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is still missing. Molly is looking for answers to her questions and finds out something she didn't expect to ever find out...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one main chapter left and an epilogue to follow! Yey! We almost made it! 
> 
> The rest of the fic was sent to my darling beta [comeaftermejackrobinson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/comeaftermejackrobinson/pseuds/comeaftermejackrobinson). Thank you, girl, as allways!
> 
> You'll find the moodboard for this chapter [here](https://polinaduntonwrites.tumblr.com/post/179036926121/show-chapter-archive). Because my tumblr blog needs a hug :)
> 
> Thank you to everyone who reads this fic, stays tuned, comments, leaves kudos, etc. You are all the best! There is nothing better for an author than to know his work is being read and appreciated, believe me! Lot's of love to every single one of you!

**Chapter 20.**

**Surprises.**

 

The birthday party quickly turned into an  investigation area, drinks and whatever was left of the birthday cake forgotten. They made a list of Sherlock’s potential boltholes.  It turned out Mycroft did not know them all, therefore they still had places to check. Greg and John left to do that. Molly felt like she was losing her mind again. 

  
  


  
“Molly, go get some sleep. I will wake you up if anything comes up,” Mycroft offered.   
  


“I don’t want to go to sleep,” she hissed.   
  


Mycroft rubbed his eyes. It was something he did that Molly had often seen his brother do. 

“I know you are mad at me,” he said. “I didn’t want to worry you. Please forgive me. I am still used to doing anything on my own, especially where my family is concerned. And both you and Sherlock are my family now, you know?” 

 

She inhaled sharply at this. It was true. She felt it, too. Mr. and Mrs Holmes were like a mother and a father to her. She saw Mycroft as an elder brother. And Sherlock… Well, Sherlock was complicated. Lately she’d been going through everything they had shared over the years, and it seemed like Sherlock was just meant for her, not in a good way, necessarily. It just felt like he was meant to be in her life. But now it was up to them whether they made something good out of it or let these unresolved feelings destroy their lives. But yes, Mycroft was right: all in all, they still were a family. And no matter how mad she was at Mycroft at the moment, she couldn’t disagree with him on that. 

 

But why would Sherlock do something like this? She knew she had been taking things slow. She remembered the hurt on his eyes every time she jumped away from him when he touched her. She was so scared. And at the same time, she craved his presence when he wasn’t near her. She wanted his hands on her, wanted him. She had given him a watch for Christmas hoping that he would take the hint (knowing that he would take the hint): it was a promise.  _ When the time comes, I will be yours _ . And he wore the watch, which made Molly immensely happy.  He could read her so well, had always been able to read her so well… He had to be able to see that she wanted him, right? She just needed some more time. So why would he go and do something like this?

 

  
Molly looked up at the clock on the wall. It  _ was  _ late. She had this idea running around her head, and she felt it was worth giving it a go. She needed to understand what was going on with Sherlock or she’ll lose her mind. 

“Mycroft, it's fine,” she finally said. “I will take a nap. Please, let me know if anything happens.”   
  


Molly went to her bedroom and dialed a number she knew by heart now. She held her breath, hoping that the person on the other end of the line would pick up soon.   
  


“Molly, darling, we’ve just got home,” Martha said. She sounded surprise. . “Is something wrong?”

  
“Oh, Martha, hi! I am sorry to bother you, I know it’s late. You are not already in bed, are you?”   
  


“Oh, not yet, but we were thinking of calling it a night soon. . But not before you tell me what’s going on, of course. Come on!”

  
Martha was really good at understanding things. Molly didn’t want to upset her too much, but she had promised her to always let her know if there was anything wrong with her sons. And she would never break a promise to the woman she loved like a mother. Molly explained the situation to Martha as calmly as she could, trying not to overwhelm her. She told her everything she knew. 

 

“That’s the story, Martha… I know, you must be  worried now. And I know Sherlock could be on a case... But they found a syringe…”

  
“Unused, you said,” Martha interrupted her. “Was it really unused, Molly?”   
  


“As far as I know, yes. It hasn’t been used. But I can’t understand… Why would he just disappear? And are there any chances that…”   
  


“That he relapsed?”   
  


“Yes… Yes…”   
  


She heard Martha sigh.   
  


“My God… I was hoping that he wouldn’t come to that… I still hope that he didn’t do anything like that…But he has been going through a difficult time lately. Too much hurt. I know because he talked to me about his feelings willingly, he didn’t even refuse to open up when I reached out for him.”    
  


“But why was he hurting? Martha…” she had to ask this question. It was torture not knowing. “Was it because of me?”

  
“Oh, darling,” Martha sounded really concerned now. “Sherlock was definitely struggling with his feelings for you, yes. He’s never been good at waiting. He’s never been a patient man. But those are Sherlock’s problems, not yours. I think he was determined to stay clean this time because he wanted to do right by you. So don’t you dare blaming yourself for anything he may have done!”  “I wish I could, Martha… But what if he did…”

  
“And what if he didn’t? Listen, Molly. Sherlock had some issues with you and Mycroft being so close, that’s clear. He’s always had a problem with jealousy…”

“He what now?!” Molly almost dropped the phone.

  
“Well, you and Mycroft are so close now! And Sherlock knows how Mycroft feels about you, so…”

“What do you mean, Martha? What do you mean  _ how Mycroft feels about me _ ? What on Earth are you talking about?!”

  
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Mrs. Holmes exclaimed. “I had no idea that things were that bad with both of my children.  I am starting to think that there _ is _ some family curse involved! Molly, it is not my place to tell you, but I guess now I have to do it, just so that you can see the whole picture. Darling, Mycroft is in love with you, has for a while now. He doesn’t want to tell you anything because he knows how you feel about Sherlock, but don’t tell me you didn’t know that had you been free, he would have given it a go!”   
  


“I... I didn’t know…” the world was spinning around Molly. “Oh my God…”   
  


“Oh my God, indeed!” Martha smirked.   
  


“What am I to do now?! How will I look Mycroft in the eye now?”   
  


“I guess it is better if you don’t say anything to him. It was his choice to stay by your side, and don’t you dare spoil the beautiful friendship you have. Things like this just happen, but you don’t owe Mycroft anything simply because he loves you. So, just let it be.”   
  


“But...”   
  


“I mean it, Molly, let it be! Mycroft will be fine.”   
  


“Okay... Okay... But... Oh my God!”

 

Something suddenly hit her.    
  


“What is it, honey?” Martha must have caught the desperate notes in Molly’s voice, as her own voice softened immediately. 

“The last time I saw Sherlock, Mycroft and I were talking about my birthday party. He was telling me about dinner. I was so excited… And then Sherlock came to see me, and he had this strange look on his face when he was leaving! Oh my God, Martha! He came to the wrong conclusion. This is my entire fault!

  
“Hush, Molly, hush. Everything will be fine.”   
  


But Molly kept saying over and over again that it was her fault.

 

“Molly, stop it! Sherlock is a grown man! And you don’t actually know where he is now. You need to calm down, girl!”   
  


Molly breathed in and out, trying to do as she was told.   
  


“Now, try to get some sleep. If something  _ is _ wrong, Sherlock will need your help when he is back. You need to sleep, darling. Try to think of something else.”   
  


“Like what, for example?” Molly breathed desperately.   
  


“Well, when I have insomnia I usually think of some house errands I should accomplish...”   
  


“Oh, yes, yes... I need to send my landlord a check tomorrow. Good thing you reminded me!”   
  


There was a silence on the other end of the line.   
  


“Martha?” Molly asked, concerned.   
  


“Molly, darling, what landlord are you talking about?” Martha sounded worried.   
  


“Well, the one that rents this flat out to me...”   
  


“Molly... Are you okay, darling?”   
  


“Well, I’m worried sick, so no, I am not...”   
  


“That’s not what I mean... The flat you are living in belongs to Sherlock. Why would you pay him rent?”   
  


“What?..” Molly was glad that there was a chair not far from the place where she was standing.   
  


“Oh my God, these two morons haven’t told you yet...”   
  


“I guess not...”

  
“Molly, Sherlock bought your flat when you still were here with us. Mycroft and Sherlock... They told you the truth when they said that the landlord was happy with what he was getting for the flat. I told Sherlock to tell you everything as soon as possible, and he promised me to do so when you were ready... I didn’t think it would take him so long! I’m sorry, darling. This must be too much information for you to process...”

  
“Why wouldn’t he tell me sooner, Martha?”   
  


“He was afraid you would move if you knew the truth.”    
  


“Oh my God... Did Mycroft know? Of course he did! I’m going to kill him!”   
  


“Leave it to me, girl! Those two have gone too far with their conspiracy!”   
  
As soon as Molly ended the call, she went downstairs, where Mycroft was, sitting on the sofa, his back to her,  drinking a glass of something that looked like whisky. She didn’t care what she had told Martha. Never in all of her life, not even when he hadn’t been nothing more than Sherlock’s annoying brother, had Molly been so angry with him. Since he was unaware of Molly’s presence in the living room, she attacked him from behind and punched him on the shoulder. 

  
“Ouch!” he was up on his feet in a blink, looking at her in astonishment.

  
“Ouch, indeed!” she hissed.

  
“Molly, why on Earth...”   
  


“Oh, I’ll tell you why, Mycroft!” she interrupted him. She’d have to try to keep it quiet. If she was too loud, she’d wake up Rosie.  “Why didn’t you tell me Sherlock bought this house, huh?”   
  


The look on his face could be easily described as one of surprise.   
  


“How did you…”   
  


“Oh, your mother happened to mention it.”   
  


“Oh, God!” Mycroft rolled his eyes. “Now I will have to deal with her as well.”   
  


“Oh, I bet you will, Mycroft! Why didn’t you tell me?! I thought we were friends! I thought there were no more secrets between us!”   
  


“Molly, calm down…”   
  


“Don’t you tell me to  _ calm down _ ! What is it wrong with you all?! Why didn’t you…”   
  


“Because it was not my secret to tell!” Mycroft exclaimed, and Molly’s mouth closed automatically. “Sherlock had bought this flat before we talked about your future living arrangements. You were still in hospital, and he assumed that you wouldn’t like to come back to your old flat.”   
  


“So he just bought a flat for me to rent?”   
  


“He actually bought a flat for you to have. This flat belongs to you.”   
  


“WHAT?!”   
  


“We probably both need to sit down and talk…”   
  
Molly was speechless as she sat down on the sofa and took a cup of tea from Mycroft’s hands. He had gone to the kitchen and fetched the tea, but she hadn’t even noticed him doing so, too consumed by all the emotions boiling inside of her. She looked at the cup in her hands and breathed shakily.   
  


“I might need something stronger than tea,” she whispered.

  
Mycroft took the cup from her hands and replaced it with a glass of whiskey.   
  


“Thanks,” Molly said. As soon as she sipped the liquor, the taste made her feel more relaxed.    
“You are welcome, Molly,” Mycroft said, rubbing his eyes and sitting across from her.   
  


“So, tell me everything,” Molly asked quietly, and this time Mycroft did so without fighting back.   
  


“As you probably remember, you asked Sherlock to stay away from you when you were recovering at the hospital. And he agreed to it, surprisingly so. But he was always around anyway. He was worried about you, and he couldn’t find peace not knowing how he could protect you and make everything better. You didn’t want to see him, and he was having panic attacks. In fact, he had one of them one time he was thinking about what would happen once you were back in London. He was scared that your old flat would trigger bad memories. He didn’t want that to happen. He also knew that your old flat was quite close to Barts, and that it would be hard to find anything as good for a reasonable price. Sherlock wanted you to be comfortable, he wanted to have anything ready as soon as you were discharged. He also knew that you’d want Rosie to be around as much as possible, so he took that into consideration as well. So he decided to buy this flat. It’s yours, by the way. Yours and Rosie’s. Half will be Rosie’s when she’s of age. Truth be told, I wanted him to tell you what he was planning to do before he bought it, but he convinced me that that would only lead to an endless, rather exhausting discussion…”

 

Molly smirked.   
  


“I think he was right about that, don’t you?” Mycroft smirked back.   
  


Molly rolled her eyes.   
  


“Go on, Mycroft.”   
  


“So, he bought this flat. The owner was moving out of the country and Sherlock’s offer was rather generous… We then realized that you would never accept this as a gift. That’s why Sherlock decided to rent the flat to you. I didn’t lie  when I said that the landlord was happy with the conditions. Sherlock hasn’t been using the money you pay him. He set up a fund. He’s saving it for you, in case you ever need it. I assume he was planning to tell you all of this himself..”

  
“And when exactly would that be, may I ask?” Molly was not angry anymore. She just felt lost and annoyed. 

“We were going to act on the circumstances…”   
  


They sat in silence for several minutes.   
  


“Mycroft… This flat costs too much. I can’t accept it. And what about taxes? I had no idea I had a flat of my own!”   
  


“Don’t worry, Molly, everything’s covered. I am not the British government, as my brother keeps calling me, for nothing.”   
  


“Mycroft…”   
  


“Please, Molly. Please accept it! It is for you and for Rosie. The Holmes are a rich family. Very rich. Sherlock himself has a lot of money. I hate to admit it, but he managed to make a fortune with this consulting detective career! And you and little Miss Watson are part of our family, no matter what your relationships with me or my brother is.”

  
Molly gulped, blushing slightly, remembering what Martha had told her about Mycroft’s feelings for her. She was glad that Mycroft was too deep in his thoughts to notice how confused she was feeling. 

“My brother is always over the top about everything,“ Mycroft sighed. “He works over the top, he thinks over the top and he feels over the top. Don’t think you owe him anything for all of that, Molly. That’s just something Sherlock would do for his goddaughter, whom he cares about like crazy, even if he wouldn’t admit it, and for the only woman he loves.”   
  


Molly raised her eyes and looked at Mycroft.

“I guess,” he continued, “That love for a woman was a foreign concept to  Sherlock because he never loved anyone in his life. But that was before you. I have come to understand that my brother is absolutely monogamous. I’ve known him for his whole life, and if he cares about someone, then it is forever. And I don’t think it is possible for him to stop loving you now, no matter what you decide to do, Molly. So just accept it. You can let him act on his feelings for you if they happen to be reciprocated, of course.  But at least accept this flat and everything that goes with it… Will you, Molly?”

  
She didn’t know how many more times she could cry about Sherlock. This time, however, her tears were different. She was shocked, astonished really, and she had no idea how to process it all. But suddenly she understood that she was finally able to accept it all. She wanted Sherlock, she wasn’t afraid to lose him anymore. And she was deadly worried for his well-being now.

  
_ God, please, let him be safe! _ she thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi to me on tumblr: [PolinaDuntonWrites](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/polinaduntonwrites)


	21. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is finally found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, guys! Sorry I kept you waiting! The final two chapters took a bit more time to edit than it was originally planned. Speaking about it, thank you, my darling beta [comeaftermejackrobinson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/comeaftermejackrobinson/pseuds/comeaftermejackrobinson) for working on this fic despite everything that is happening in your life. I hope, everything will get better soon!
> 
> Guys, check comeaftermejackrobinson's works. They are really something!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who reads this fic, comments it and leaves kudos. You motivate me to write!
> 
> The epilogue will be here as soon as it is edited.

****

 

**Chapter 21.**

**Home.**

 

The following day she decided to move to Baker Street for the time being. Rosie had rooms there both in Sherlock’s and John’s flats, and Molly could get regular updates since Greg and John were working right out of Mrs. Hudson’s kitchen. Molly wondered where it would be better for her to sleep, on the sofa in the living room or in Sherlock’s bed. The room smelled like him, and soon she found out that she was only able to get some rest if she was wrapped up in his blankets, surrounded by the sense of him, laying on the middle of his bed.   
One week passed since Mycroft found the syringe in Sherlock’s bedroom, and still there was no sign of the younger Holmes sibling. Molly lay on his bed watching the ceiling. Rosie was with John, and it was already getting too late. Molly didn’t know how she could help. She had been calling to every morgue in town almost on a daily basis (thankfully there were no traces of Sherlock in any of them), she had been looking for him in every hospital, but he was nowhere to be found. Molly still wasn’t sure whether she believed there was a God, but now she realized that she had nothing else to do but pray. And so she did.

  
_Please God,_ she thought. _Please, let him be alive! Please, let him come back home. Please, let him come back to me!_   


                                                                                                                                            ***

  
He was exhausted. How long had he been absent? Had it already been it a week? A month? A year? He couldn’t say. He had been awake the whole time, thus losing track. The case he had taken was an important one. He owed the client. He tried to never owe anybody anything, but in this case he did. That was why he had picked up the phone and dropped the syringe filled with heroine. He couldn’t help but think of the reason why he’d been about to shoot up. But he was exhausted, so those were thoughts for another time, another day.  Even if he was going to have a fix the next day, today he had to get some sleep.

His cover was good, so good that Sherlock was sure that Mycroft had no idea where he had been. He spent some time abroad, which had been a freeing experience. It had been so great to lose himself in a case once again, to forget about Mycroft and about his own broken heart. Sherlock was grateful to his exhaustion now: it was numbing, and he couldn’t imagine something more blissful than that.

Upon entering 221b, Sherlock noticed all the tiny details around him. Rosie was with John. Lestrade had come for a visit not long before Sherlock came back. He was probably looking for him to offer him some boring case, but he had already left. Mrs. Hudson was using her medicine once again, it seemed- the old lady would never stop, and that made Sherlock smirk.

Molly had also visited. Sherlock froze and frowned. She had probably come to bring Rosie to John. Sherlock was too tired to remember her schedule, but Molly probably had the night shift in Barts today... Everything was fine without him. It was good to know that everyone still managed when he wasn’t around, wasn’t it?

  
He shook his head and went to the living room. He only took off his Belstaff before passing out on the sofa, still fully dressed. It was only after a second that he noticed that something was off. He opened his eyes and looked around. His room was clean, but it hadn’t been Mrs. Hudson. It was not her style. It was different. Somebody else had come to his flat and cleaned it.

 

Everything was in place, it seemed, and even his skull was somehow polished. Sherlock squinted. Was something wrong? Was his flat dangerous now? He shook his head once again.  


“Sherlock?” all his senses were suddenly at their peak.

  
Molly was there, standing on the threshold of his bedroom. He froze, looking at her. There was no way she could be here. He was probably hallucinating. Had he pushed himself too hard and fainted from lack of sleep?

  
“Sherlock, are you okay?” Molly didn’t move. Sherlock was speechless.   


After what seemed like several minutes in complete silence, she finally moved. It took him by surprise, and before he could stop her she was grabbing his arm and holding up his sleeves to check his arms for needle marks. Her touch felt too real, it couldn’t be an hallucination. And so it suddenly hit him. Molly was there, and she was real, and she was touching him. She was no longer pulling away from him, she was actually touching him. He watched her, his mouth hanging open.   


“What... What are you doing?” he finally whispered.

  
She looked at him with so much concern in her eyes that all his exhaustion disappeared. Now he was just sick with worry.

“Molly...”

“Sherlock, tell me, are you clean, darling?” she asked, trying to check  his other arm.  


Her question surprised him.

“Of course... Of course I am clean, why wouldn’t I be?”

  
He showed her his arms himself. Molly let out the breath she’d been holding, and then she put her arms around his neck and held him close to her. He wasn’t prepared for that.   


“God, Sherlock, we were all so scared! I was so scared! Where were you? I thought you were dead! Or lying somewhere dying! I thought I lost you! I...”

He stopped her jabbering, pressing his lips to her forehead.  


“Molly, I am fine. Calm down, darling,” the words felt foreign on his tongue. Foreign, but very sweet.  


“Where were you?” she sobbed into his chest.  


“I was on a case. Abroad.”  


“Why didn’t you tell me?”  


He looked down at her, feeling confused. He had started texting her every time he went abroad on a case. He had not done so this time because he’d thought it would no longer interest her whether he was working or not. He thought she’d not want to get his messages anymore.

“I... I didn’t think it mattered to you,” he whispered.  


He looked at her. He could read her face so easily, it hurt. She was worried. And for some reason she felt guilty.  


“Sherlock, of course you matter, darling,” she whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry... I’m so very sorry.”  


Not really understanding what was going on, he pressed her closer to himself, trying to soothe her.  


“Molly, calm down, everything’s fine. You have nothing to be sorry about, darling.”

  
“But I have!” she exclaimed. “I thought you’d relapsed and died somewhere in the streets because I neglected you! I never meant it to be that way, I just needed some time, but I didn’t see how much I was hurting you by pushing you away. I swear, I had no idea Mycroft felt that way about me, I thought you knew that we were just friends... We still are, and there’s nothing else to it...” she was rambling, and Sherlock was suddenly really confused. Her words about Mycroft warmed his heart. He’d thought she’d started to see his brother as more than just a friend. There was probably still hope for him, after all. But there was something else in her words that bothered him.

  
“Why would you think that I’d relapsed?” he asked.

“There was a syringe full of heroin solution in your flat... And you were nowhere to be found. Mycroft didn’t know where you were. Greg and his guys were looking for you all around London, and John helped. God, Sherlock, I was placing calls to morgues and hospitals all around London on a daily basis!”

  
He finally understood. The syringe, of course... He should have hidden it. God, everybody had gone out of their minds trying to find him. He wouldn’t have thought someone would care, and he was surprised that they had been so worried.   
“Sherlock,” just as if she had been reading his mind, Molly called him, pulling him out of his trance. “Did you think that no one would care?”

He was watching her silently, trying to find the right words, but in the end he just nodded his head yes.

  
“God, love, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, and his heart melted when he heard her call him that.

“Don’t be, Molly, please, don’t be,” he whispered back.

  
She was watching him, her gaze so soft that he melted into it.

  
“I know about the flat,” she said quietly.   


He frowned, realizing what she was talking about.  


“Please, Molly, don’t tell me you are moving out...”  


“No, no Sherlock, I’m not,” she interrupted. “I just wanted to thank you.”  


“You do?” He couldn’t help but smile.

“Yes,” She was smiling, too. “Yes, I did. But I will stay there on one condition.”  


“Anything, Molly,” he was afraid that she would ask something impossible. He was terrified she would tell him she’d only stay there if he agreed to never see her again. But if that was what she wanted, then he would agree to it. He would give it to her, whatever she needed, whatever she desired.

“I want you to stay overnight at least for a couple of nights per week.”  


His breath got stuck in his throat. Everything around him got blurry, and then she was closing the distance between them, pulling his face toward hers and kissing him. It took him a couple of seconds to realize what was going on, but the moment it hit him he began to respond to her kiss. She smiled against his mouth when she felt his lips on her.

  
“I love you, Sherlock,” she whispered, and he thought that his heart would explode.

He lifted her off the floor, her legs wrapping around his waist. She was only wearing a long T-shirt and knickers. He groaned when he felt her crotch pressing into his groin. In seconds, Molly was moaning desperately as he pushed her up against a wall near his bedroom and kissed her.

  


“Sherlock,” she whispered into his mouth.

  
“Mhm?”   


“I need to tell you something.”  


He stopped kissing her and looked at her, frowning.  


“First of all, I want you to take me on your bed,” she smirked, watching his face relaxing. “And secondly, you are wearing too much clothes.”

  
He took the hint, and in no time Molly was naked, her moans echoing in the room as his lips touched her folds. He took off all of his clothes, got lost in the feel of their bodies and their warmth mixing together. Her taste was heavenly. He had never thought doing something like this could actually be pleasant. He’d always assumed people lied when they discussed their sex lives for unknown reasons he could not understand. But there there was Molly, coming undone as he ate her cunt out, his lips and tongue and teeth working on her, and in that moment he realized that that felt better than any drug ever had or would.

  


  
“Sherlock... Up here, now!” she pleaded, her voice hoarse. He was happy to follow her orders.   


He didn’t ask her how she wanted him. He was pretty good at reading her, he could easily tell exactly what she needed by the way she wrinkled her nose. He covered her body with his own, and stopped for a moment adjusting himself to her opening.  


“Molly?” he still asked.  


“Oh my God, Sherlock, fuck me already!”  


And then he entered her. Sherlock heard Molly’s gasp and spent a few seconds reading the expression on her face. That hadn’t been a gasp of pain. It’d been a sound of pleasure. He set a pace, feeling how wet she was for him and losing himself in her completely. She felt so tight and wet, he knew he wouldn’t last long, and by the sound she was making he could tell that Molly was just as close as he was.  


“I love you,” he whispered into her neck. “I love you so much, Molly!”  


“I love you, Sherlock! Always!”  


“Come for me, darling. I want you there with me.”  


“Just don’t stop, don’t you dare stopping!”  


His pace was frantic, and the moment Molly climaxed under him, he came to his own release with a loud groan.

  
It took him several minutes to come back to himself, and as soon as he did, Sherlock kissed Molly tenderly. She was panting heavily, and he shifted to his side as to not crush her under his weight.

“Are you alright, darling?” He asked, and heard her laughing.

“Sherlock, I am bloody fine,” she smiled before kissing him on the lips. “You are bloody fine. I love you so much.”

He nuzzled her ear.

“I love you too. May I ask you something?”  


“Of course.”  


“You wanted me to stay at your place, but will you be staying here with me from time to time as well?”  


She looked at him, smiling tenderly.  


“Of course, Sherlock,” she kissed him on the nose, but then frowned suddenly.  


He looked at her worriedly, feeling all the changes in her mood with his own soul now.  


“What is it?”  


“Were you... Were you going to use?” she asked quietly.  


He immediately understood what that question meant. He could make something up, of course. He could lie to her as he had done so many times in the past. But he chose not to. If he wanted to have a chance with Molly, he had to be honest with her. No more lies, no more secrets. Even if it meant she would stand up and go away after he confessed what he’d been about to do, he owed her honesty.  


“Yes, Molly. I was going to use.”  


She was watching him, and for a moment he was afraid that she would go away after all.  
“Good thing you didn’t,” she finally said. “If we want to make it work, you can’t relapse. If you feel like you are close to using, you have to come to me or John, or even Mycroft, if you must. But you can’t relapse. That’s the only condition I have.”

  
“I thought your only condition was that I would stay some nights at your place during the week,” he tried to make a joke, but she smacked him in the arm.

“Are. We. Clear?” she asked, punctuating every word.  


He looked at her tenderly.  


“Yes, Molly, yes, we are. We are clear.”  


He felt himself hardening for her once more, but when he was already going to claim her, he heard the last voice he wanted to hear at the moment.

“Molly, Molly, where are you?” Mycroft called from the living room.

“It’s the middle of the night, for God’s sake,” Sherlock murmured. “Does he always come to see you at such odd hours, Molly?”  


She chuckled.  


“His people must have seen somebody entering the flat. I guess, they knew it was you, otherwise there would have been an alpha-squad in here as soon as you entered the premises. And Mycroft would have been here much earlier. But he is still concerned, I suppose, hence his visit.”  


“I wish he’d arrived when you were coming undone under me. That would have taught him a lesson about privacy, something that my parents have obviously failed to do.”  


“Molly!” Mycroft called again.

“Be nice,” she chuckled.  


“Mycroft, I’m here, just a minute. I’m... I’m not decent.”  


“Good point,” Sherlock grumbled from the bed.

 

***  


Five minutes later Molly entered the living room, where Mycroft was sitting with a cup of tea in his hands in the company of a sleepy John Watson. John was holding the baby monitor in his hands, trying his best not to fall back asleep.

  
“Molly, my men said someone had entered the building around half an hour ago. They assumed it was Sherlock, but as long as he is not here, I’m afraid we’ll have to evacuate.”

  
“There’s no reason for that, Mycroft,” she heard Sherlock’s voice before she could answer. “I am here, and Molly is... aware of that.”

  
She turned to him and felt her ears blushing. He was wearing a robe. And nothing else.   


_Cheeky bastard!_ she thought, slightly annoyed.   


Sherlock grinned at his brother, and Molly saw Mycroft clenching his teeth.

  
“Oh, I see,” the elder Holmes said. “And where have you been, brother mine? I guess it is something I need to know. Any possible withdrawals in the nearest future?”   


The comment made Molly angry, but what had triggered her outburst in the first place was the wounded look on Sherlock’s face.

“Cut it, Mycroft,” she hissed, making the elder Holmes brother fidget uncomfortably. “Sherlock’s clean, I checked him. He was on a case. And could you please stop measuring your penis with you brother’s?”

  
Her question made John, who was almost completely out and would soon be lying on Mycroft’s shoulder, jump in surprise as Mycroft choked on his tea and Sherlock snorted so loud that it was almost indecent.

  
“The same goes to you, Sherlock,” Molly hissed. “Go put some pants on, for God’s sake!”

  
Sherlock nodded with confused expression on his face and stepped back to the bedroom.

 

Mycroft bowed his head.  


“I’m sorry, Molly,” he said. “I forgot myself.”  


“So, ahem, is everything alright now?” John asked in confusion.

“Yes, Mr. Watson. Everything’s fine. My brother is safe and sound, will you inform the deputy inspector for me?”  


“Yes, yes, I’ll send him a message. I should better be going. Rosie will be awake soon, and I need some sleep.”  


“You can bring her here tomorrow, John,” Molly offered.  


“No, I guess, I’ll be fine. You need to... spend some time with Sherlock,” John winked before exiting the room.  


Mycroft and Molly were left alone together.  


“I guess everything is fine now, isn’t it, Molly?” Mycroft asked finally. Something close to embarrassment could be clearly heard in his voice.  


“Yes, yes, I guess it is,” for some reason Molly felt confused and really uncomfortable as well.

  
“I would still like to hear about that case of yours, Sherlock, when you are rested enough. After all, you managed to hide from my best people this time,” Mycroft was addressing Sherlock, who was back in the living room after dressing himself.

“It was a private case for a private customer. Rather gainful, I must admit,” Sherlock stood by Molly’s side and wrapped an arm around her waist. The gesture made her heart flutter, despite the growing feeling of guilt she felt since Mycroft was there. “However, I will have to speak to you concerning the holes in your surveillance system that helped me get away.”

  
“Oh, so you will just point them all out for me?” Mycroft smirked. “Just like that?”   


“Only those that are dangerous for the country, Mycroft. I will still have some of them up in my sleeve for further use.”

  
“I see... Well, contact me when you are ready then, brother mine. I have to get going. Good night, Molly. I... I guess, I will contact you soon.”

  
“What about dinner? We were going to have on Thursday, right?”   


For a second Mycroft’s face lit up before he pulled himself together.  


“Do you... Do you still want to?”  


She felt Sherlock’s body tense near her, and she squeezed him gently.  


“Of course, Mycroft. It’s our weekly dinner, I wouldn’t miss it. You are my friend, and you always have a place on my schedule.”  


Mycroft couldn’t contain his smile.  


“Of course, Molly, I’ll send a car for you, as always. I will be glad to see little Rosamund with you. Sherlock,” he bowed lightly and exited the flat.  


They stood in silence for several moments, Sherlock’s hand never leaving her waist.  


“Has my brother noticed that you have him wrapped around you little finger?” he finally whispered into her ear.  


She turned to him, smiling, and pressed herself closer to his warm body.  


“Don’t be jealous, Sherlock. Mycroft is my best friend, and I care about him. But I... I want you. Only you. So, tell me, can I have you, Sherlock?”  


He sighed and kissed her forehead.  


“Always, Molly, always.”  


She suddenly noticed how dark the circles under his eyes were. He was clearly exhausted, and she wondered how on Earth he’d had enough physical strength to make love to her earlier.

  
“Darling, you need to sleep now. Don’t argue!” she managed to interrupt him before he was able to say something.   


Sherlock just smiled and nodded.  


Later that night they were lying in bed, and Molly thought that Sherlock was already asleep. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him. He was there with her and he was safe and sound. She couldn’t wish for more.

  
_Thank you, God... Thank you for everything!_ she thought to herself.

She had not turned into a religious person, but lately she had started to feel like there was something that was watching over her. And she was always more than willing to say thanks to it for things like these, whatever it was.  


“Molly?” she suddenly heard Sherlock calling or her.  


“Hmm?”  


“Will you still be here tomorrow?”  


She smiled at his question.  


“Yes, Sherlock. Yes, I will. Tomorrow and all the days to come.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi to me on tumblt: [PolinaDuntonWrites](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/polinaduntonwrites).


	22. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One year later...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! That was a wonderful journey! Thank you, everyone, who read this fic, who waited for the updates, who left kudos and who commented. This was my first fic ever. I am not a native English speaker and it was scary to start writing something in a foreign language. I am so happy I did! :)
> 
> Thank you so much, my darling beta [comeaftermejackrobinson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/comeaftermejackrobinson/pseuds/comeaftermejackrobinson)! You are an incredibly talented person! I hope you'll cope with everything you are going through at the moment! You are a great writer, amazing and thoughtful editor and one of the greatest person I know.

****

**Chapter 22.**

**Epilogue.**

 

“So, how have you been?” Sherlock’s low voice pulled her out of her trance.

 

Molly turned to the door and smiled at him, wincing in the light of the morning. One week had passed since he’d taken his latest a case someplace with terrible cell phone coverage, so he had not been able to call or text her. But he was back now, and she couldn’t be happier. Molly walked up to Sherlock and hugged him tightly to her.

 

“Hi…” she whispered, smiling when he nuzzled the top of her head, inhaling her scent as he always did.

 

“Molly,” he whispered quietly.

 

She knew Sherlock loved the sound of her name. He’d told her once that he loved the way it tasted on his tongue. Sometimes he’d just pronounce it and close his eyes. Molly had asked him once what he thought in those moments. Sherlock had simply smiled and told her that he didn’t think of anything in particular: the sound of her name made his mind stop working, so he could just sit and relax.

 

Molly knew how important it was for Sherlock to find a way to stop his restless mind. They’d spent a year together as a couple and he was still dealing with the outcome of getting in touch with his feelings. She knew that sometimes reality became just too much for him. In moments like that, Molly stopped his pacing (he was always pacing back and forth when he had those moments), took him in her arms and held him until he was fine again.

 

She herself was still healing. The depression never faded quickly. Even though her life was great now, some feelings had not gone away. However, those moments were rare now. Molly was really happy. The first time she realized that, she’d been afraid to believe it. But now, after a whole year of waking up by Sherlock’s side almost every day, and thanks to the role she now had in Rosie’s life, her friendship with Mycroft and her relationship with Tim and Martha, she wasn’t as afraid anymore.

 

Sherlock still had some issues, though. He had to learn too much and too quickly, and as long as the things that were expected from him had more to do with his emotions than with his mind, they were a little bit too complicated for him. Molly was there to help him every time he was on the edge. She brought him peace of mind, acted as his safe harbor in this hurricane that was his life. He didn’t even have to tell her that, she just knew it, she could feel it in every cell in her body. She loved to play that role in his life.

  


So there they were now. Molly was still working in the morgue at St. Bart’s, and she was still helping Sherlock with his cases and experiments. Sherlock still was the world’s only consulting detective. He hadn’t changed much, and at the same time he was a completely different person from the man he’d been a year before.

 

They were now living at Molly’s flat, but Sherlock had kept  Baker Street as his office. Sometimes Molly spent the night there as well. Their sexual life flourished, and Molly found it sassy when she could go to his “bachelor pad” and pretend they were having some kind of one-night stand. He would still be her Sherlock in the morning, the one who had taken up cooking in the past few months in an attempt to understand her favorite hobby better. But in the evening, when Rosie was with John, Mrs. Hudson, or Martha and Tim, or sometimes even Mycroft, she would put on her fanciest dress and some make-up, they would have dinner, and then he would shag her into the mattress, making her faint after each orgasm he gave her.

 

They were looking after Rosie together now. The girl was growing up and was now almost four years old. She was smarter than most of the children her age. That was no surprise-- after all, Mycroft and Sherlock were her favorite nannies and tutors. Molly would have  never imagined those two could be so great with children. The Holmes brothers taught Rosie how to read when she was only two, and now the girl swallowed one book after another. Molly’d had to put a big bookcase in her room. It was almost full now, and she was worried she would have to put up more shelves soon. They all were books for small children, of course, but Molly hoped she would be able to replace them with more mature works as Rosie grew older. But for now, little Miss Watson refused to say goodbye to any of her paperback friends.

 

Mycroft was also there for Molly’s little one. He still worked a lot, but always found time for the girl (with or without Anthea’s help). Rosie even stayed the nights at his place sometimes, so Molly could have some ‘adult time’ with Sherlock without any risks of getting interrupted. Mycroft was the only adult (except from Sherlock and Molly) who could get Rosie to follow her nighttime routine without any problems. Molly could tell, Mycroft was proud of it.

 

John was still the same. Molly’s hopes that he would become a better father once Rosamund got a bit older had been in vain. He was still a shitty parent who often neglected his daughter or couldn’t cope with her. Molly was worried that Rosamund was starting to realize that. She would often see the sadness in her daughter’s eyes every time John brought his daughter back from his apartment earlier than originally planned. He always offered the most stupid excuses. Molly hated John for that, and the doctor seemed to know just how much. He was always a bit awkward around Molly, chuckling untimely and smiling lamely. Several months ago, Molly had finally made the decision that if John wanted to see Rosie, then he’d have to go to visit her at her home. She tried her best to talk nicely to him about it, and she was more than surprised when the man didn’t even bother to argue. So now he mostly visited Rosie when Sherlock dragged him to Molly’s. The pathologist couldn’t understand the situation at first, but she had tried her best to come to terms with these circumstances. She always had a smile on her face when John went to visit her, for Rosie’s sake.

Sherlock and John were still friends, but after John had started neglecting his daughter completely, Sherlock had chosen to put some distance between them.  Molly knew Sherlock was angry with John, but she also knew that no matter how hard John fucked up, Sherlock would always be there for him. This inner conflict, Molly had realized, was tearing Sherlock apart. He loved his goddaughter too much, and part of him hated John for the way he’d been behaving since she’d been born. But John meant too much for Sherlock,  and the detective meant too much for John. So Molly decided it would be better to leave things be and let them figure it out by themselves. She was fine with it as long as it was fine for Rosie.

 

Sherlock was very good with their little girl, and not just when he was teaching her something. He enjoyed Rosie’s company. Sherlock liked to read to her, liked to tell her stories about his adventures. He even liked to join in when she played with her toys. Once she had found Rosie playing hairdresser with Sherlock. Molly had almost laughed out loud when she’d seen her daughter trying to braid Sherlock’s curly hair. He didn’t even twitch while Rosamund combed it, even if she was pulling so hard he was at risk of losing a few strands. He had to stop her from giving him a haircut, though (and she shouldn’t have been wanting to play with scissors anyway),  but everything else he had been able to handle.

 

Lately, Molly had started to think about how Sherlock would be with children of their own if they decided to start a family. She wasn’t young anymore, she knew she wouldn’t get pregnant easily if they started trying. She wasn’t even sure she wanted children. But the thought of a little boy or girl running around their home crossed her mind from time to time. Molly never brought the subject up with Sherlock, afraid that the discussion would mean unnecessary and unwanted tension in their relationship. It didn’t mean she didn’t think about it, because she did, even if it only was from time to time. And she would have been lying if she’d said she did not enjoy those thoughts.

Mycroft and Molly were still best friends. Molly never brought up the subject, but she could clearly see now that what Martha had told her was true: he was in love with her. It had been a little bit awkward for Molly at first, but Mycroft never tried anything, and she eventually got used to his care and devotion. He was a great, loyal friend, and the best brother Sherlock could have asked for. He was a good son, and an amazing uncle to Rosie. Molly hoped that someday he would find someone to share his life with, but after some time she realized that he probably was fine with things being the way they were. She’d talked to Martha about it, and the woman had agreed with her: Mycroft was a loner. If Molly hadn’t had Sherlock in her life, he would have probably pursued a relationship with her. Their relationship wouldn’t have been an easy one, though. He was a patriot and a workaholic, his country came first, as did his job. His family was also a priority, of course, but he often worked day and night and had little time left for doing much more than attending to his basic needs. He was in love with Molly and they had a beautiful friendship, but he loved his life as it was more. He would have never changed for her. Mycroft loved his parents, and his brother, and Rosamund, and he loved Molly. He had everything he needed to be happy, even if he wasn’t in a relationship. Martha once shared with Molly her suspicions that her older song had a ‘no-strings-attached’ kind of arrangement with some woman at the office, but Molly had never asked Mycroft about it. If it was true, then she was happy for him. She would always be happy if he was happy.

  
  


Martha and Tim still treated Molly like they would a daughter. She visited them often, and after a while Sherlock started to join her on those trips. He would still get grumpy from time to time, but Molly was sure he actually liked to spend time with his parents now.

 

Eurus was still an issue. After a year together with Sherlock, Molly was finally able to speak freely about his sister. She did not want to meet her, but talking about her was fine. Martha was glad for that - her daughter was an important topic for her, and she didn’t know who she would have discussed it with if it hadn’t been for Molly. Sherlock still visited his sister and actually felt better after their encounters. Eurus was not talking, but they played the violin, and Sherlock always seemed much more calmer after his trips to Sherrinford.

 

Their little circle of friends was not so little anymore. There still was Greg Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson, and Sally Donovan and Anderson. Molly was happy to have every single one of them in her life. It was good. She and Sherlock were good. She was happy.

  
  


“I missed you,” she whispered into his shoulder.

 

“I know,” Sherlock smirked kindly, and she nudged him with her elbow.

 

He lowered his face to place a tender kiss on the corner of her lips. It meant to be chaste and tender, but Molly caught Sherlock’s mouth with hers and deepened it, making him groan.

 

“Darling,” he whispered hoarsely. “I love your idea very much, believe me, but Mycroft’s on his way.”

 

Molly stepped back a bit and looked at Sherlock.

 

“Mycroft?”

 

“Yes, I want to talk to you about something...”

 

“And we need Mycroft for this?”

 

“It will be easier to explain when he finally comes, I promise,” Sherlock rolled his eyes, checking the time. He still wore the watch she had given him a year and a half ago, which always made Molly smile every time she caught a glimpse of it. It was a good thing it was waterproof, since Sherlock never took it off, not even when he showered.

  


“Is... Is everything fine?” she finally asked..

 

“It is,” Sherlock smiled tenderly. “Everything’s fine, don’t worry.”

 

She kissed him once again, trying to suppress the desire she was feeling. A minute later, the bell rang and she went to open the door.  

“Molly dear, how are you?” Mycroft greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. That was something they did now. Sherlock was okay with it. Once it was clear for him that Molly didn’t see Mycroft like _that_ , his relationship with his brother had started to get better. It took Molly some time, though, to get him to understand that even if Mycroft was kissing her on the cheek it didn’t mean anything.

 

When Molly and Mycroft entered the kitchen, she noticed that Sherlock was nervous.

 

“Did you get it?” He asked his brother, and Molly noticed something odd in his voice.

 

“Did you get what?” she asked the elder Holmes, a frown on her face.

“Don’t scare Molly, Sherlock,” Mycroft rolled his eyes and handed him large envelope.

 

Molly looked at it with a concerned expression.

 

“What is it, Sherlock?” she asked, getting more and more nervous.

 

Sherlock coughed and got up from the chair he was sitting on.

 

“Molly, love, I... I wanted to talk to you about something, but it’s so complicated... So I’ll try to be brief.”

 

Molly was terrified. She couldn’t understand what was going on. Had it not being for Mycroft, who was looking at her reassuringly, she would have probably fainted. What was in the envelope? What was Sherlock going to tell her? Had Sherlock relapsed? Was he dumping her for some reason? Why was Mycroft here? All these thoughts were running through her head, and she knew she was probably getting paler by the minute.

 

“Molly,” Sherlock started, looking at her with concern. “I met you ten years ago and I could never imagine then that we would be standing here today, in this kitchen, together... like this... I didn’t know I would come to love you this much...” he stammered. “God, Molly, I can hardly breathe now...”

 

She walked closer to him, offering him comfort, but he shook his head no.

 

“No, no, let me finish... I am still very bad with words. I was always the genius one, but I don’t know how to do it now... Molly, please... Have a look at these papers.”

 

He handed her the envelope, and she broke the wax that was sealing it. She didn’t even think of looking what the seal looked like. Inside the envelope were some papers, and Molly stared at them as if her life depended on it. She read the documents, her eyes getting wider.

“Sherlock...”

 

“Marry me,” he breathed.

 

She looked up at him with tears in her eyes.

 

“Sherlock, but this is...”

 

“The marriage certificate... If both of us sign it, then we will become husband and wife. I asked Mycroft to get everything ready for us... You can become Molly Holmes... or keep the surname Hooper in case you don’t want to change it... I asked Mycroft to get two sets of documents... You can become Molly Holmes right here, right now... If you agree to it...”

 

Molly was overwhelmed. She couldn’t even put two sentences together. After everything she and Sherlock had gone through... She had never allowed herself to dream of a wedding. She had simply suppressed all thoughts about it. Sherlock had never seemed like someone who would consider marriage. She knew he loved her. She knew he would sacrifice his life for her if he had to. But this... This was completely unexpected and surprising. Molly could not believe it was true, but still, there he was, standing right in front of her, a shivering mess, proposing to her.

She looked at the papers in her hand and smirked inwardly. There was no ring, he had not kneeled in front of her to pop the question. There was just him, and the possibility of becoming his wife in the following twenty seconds. This should have made her angry. Every women dreamed of the perfect proposal, the one he was seemingly denying her at the moment. But still, Molly wasn’t angry at him, because…

 

“I know there is no ring in my hand and I am completely aware that I am not down on one knee, Molly... But trust me, this isn’t because I haven’t thought about what you think a proposal should be like. I have a ring in my pocket, by the way... But I am not down on one knee because I know... I know you wouldn’t want that. I’ve deduced you a million times throughout the years. I know you. I’ve stopped doing that after... well... after Sherrinford, but I know you. I know you don’t want a big wedding and I know you wouldn’t want me to get down on one knee. I would gladly crawl a mile if that meant I would improve my chances of making you my wife.  I just know you wouldn’t want that... I...” he took a deep breath He was clearly fighting tears now. “I love you so much... I almost lost you once... And now I can’t sleep sometimes, listening to your breathing and being happy that you are alive... And that you are mine... I have deduced so many things about you... But one thing I can’t deduce is whether you will marry me or not. So... Molly... Will you be my wife?..”

 

He looked so desperate, her heart sank. Sherlock was completely right, of course. She had tried to convince herself that she wanted some big wedding with lots of guests, an ivory wedding gown and a spectacular catering. This was something every woman wanted, wasn’t it? But the past two years had taught her to listen to herself more carefully. Everyone lived just once, and Molly didn’t want to waste her life on somebody else’s dreams. She wanted to live her life the way she saw fit, wanted to have her family the way she saw fit and wanted to have her perfect wedding the way she saw fit. And Sherlock was now offering her exactly that.

 

And there he stood, the love of her life, the only man she had ever wanted, trembling because he feared she would reject him.

 

“Of course, Sherlock. Of course, I will,” she said quietly, beaming brightly at him.

 

Sherlock was not one to smile very often. His smiles were usually short-lived and not really genuine. He could grin after some nasty punch-line said to some moron who dared to doubt his geniality, could smirk at the irony of life when he and Molly discussed some cases in the morgue, could laugh at some joke John told him, but genuine, tender smiles were something reserved for special occasions. They were usually rare, and only Molly and Rosie knew how to earn them..

 

This was one of those moments, one of those smiles. Sherlock walked closer to her and hugged her tightly.

 

“Your mother is going to kill us for this,” Molly smirked into his chest.

 

“Oh, no, she actually won’t,” she could hear his voice, pressing her ear to his chest. “Mycroft and I discussed this with her, and she was very understanding. She might, however, organize something for us after we come back from our honeymoon...”

 

“Honeymoon?”

 

“Well, of course! We are leaving in four hours! That’s why Mycroft is also here, he will help to look after Rosie... He still is the only person she likes to stay with for long periods of time, aside from me and you.”

 

Molly was speechless.

 

“You have thought of everything, haven’t you?”

 

Sherlock raised his brows.

 

“Yes... Yes, I have?” It was more a question than a statement.

 

“What if I said no?”

 

She could feel the impact her words had on him.

 

“Than we would have cancelled everything... I told you, I wasn’t sure what your answer would be, Molly...”

 

His body tensed.

 

“Molly, trust me, you don’t have to say yes. You don’t have to do it. We can stay as we are now... Or we can do whatever is fine with you... You...”

 

“Lock!” Rosie’s happy voice came from the kitchen entrance.

 

Molly’s little one had woken up from her nap and was now standing in her pajamas, barefoot on the kitchen floor, her favorite stuffed doll (a rabbit) in her little hands. She usually called Molly from her room when she woke up, but this time the girl had probably heard the voices of her favorite uncles and hurried to see them.

 

“Mycloft!” Rosie still had some problems with her Rs.

“Good afternoon, Rosamund!” Mycroft, who had been standing in the kitchen the whole time Sherlock was proposing to Molly, had taken Rosie in his arms and lifted the girl off the floor. “I am so glad to see you! But I guess we’ll have to get you dressed, there is no way such a fine lady as you are can walk barefoot on this cold floor, don’t you think?”

 

“I guess I’ll change as well,” Molly stepped back from Sherlock and walked closer to Mycroft to take Rosie from his arms.

 

“Mommy, we go for a walk?” Rosie asked, hugging Molly tightly.

 

“Not now, honey,” she kissed her daughter sweetly. “I need to marry your uncle Sherlock first.”

 

She turned to him then, watching the confused expression on his face turn into something she could have described as surprise. And then he was looking so happy, almost euphoric. He reached for her and Rosie in three long strides and hugged them tightly. She heard him sob, felt his hot lips on her cheek and his hot breathing on her neck.

 

“Molly...” he whispered. “Love...”

 

“Just give me a second, darling,” she whispered back, kissing him and exiting the kitchen.

She was back in fifteen minutes, wearing her best cocktail dress. She had also changed Rosie into the girl’s favorite jumpsuit. Mycroft took Rosie in his arms and smiled at Molly.

 

“So, Molly dear, which set of documents is the right one? Will you remain Hooper or take Sherlock’s surname?”

 

“I would like to become Molly Holmes,” she answered confidently.

 

She had always wanted to take her husband’s surname. That would mean they were  together as one. Sherlock stood by her side, grinning so widely that Molly was afraid his cheeks would burn afterwards.

 

“Very well,” Mycroft nodded. “Then, Sherlock, you need to sign here,” he pointed.

Sherlock took the pen with shaking hands and signed the papers.

 

“Good. Now it’s your turn, Molly, I need your signature here,” she signed where he showed her and handed the pen back to him.

 

“Welcome to the family Mrs. Holmes,” Mycroft smiled at her. “Congratulations, Sherlock!” he nodded, smiling just as tenderly and sincerely at his brother. “I think, you may kiss your bride now.”

 

Sherlock’s lips were on hers in a second. They’d spent a year together, but his kisses were still new to Molly somehow. She didn’t like words like “always” or “never” when it came to describing a relationship, but in this case... She knew she would always love Sherlock and that she would never grow tired of his kisses.

 

“Molly,” he whispered, kissing her. “Molly... Love...”

 

“Eeeeeew!” Rosie covered her eyes with her hands.

Nine hours later, Molly and Sherlock were sitting in front of the fireplace in a rental  apparent in Rome. It had been Mycroft’s idea and present for their honeymoon.

 

“Molly?” Sherlock asked. “I wanted to discuss something with you.”

 

“Hm?” she buried her face in his chest.

 

“I want to adopt Rosie...”

 

“What do you mean?” she asked in surprise, pulling away a bit to look at his face.

 

“Well... John is my friend... But he is a shitty father. I love him... But I hate how he treats his own daughter... You are a perfect mother, Molly. And you are Holmes now. I love you. and I love Rosie as if she was my own daughter.  So, we could probably make Rosie ours, in the legal sense of the word. If you let me, of course. Only if you let me, Molly...”

 

What Sherlock offered… The idea in itself was overwhelming. But still... Molly did not want to take Rosie from John. The girl was his daughter, just as she was Mary’s.. Mary Watson... Mary Morstan... Mary, who had had no real surname, truth be told. Molly had already come face to face with some problems since Rosie did not have the same surname as hers. What Sherlock was offering seemed really controversial, but he was right. John didn’t give a damn about his daughter. So, somehow, what Sherlock was suggesting they do seemed like the right thing.

 

“And I also want all our children to have the same surname, Molly...” Sherlock suddenly said.

 

She gasped, realizing what he was talking about.

 

“I am not pregnant, Sherlock...” she whispered.

 

“No... No, you are not… yet. But if you want to have children, I will do everything in my power to make it happen.”

 

“Do you... Do you really want children?”

 

“With all my heart.”

 

She kissed him passionately. She loved him. She loved him so much, sometimes it was hard to believe a love like theirs was even possible. And now she could finally feel it, she could finally rest assured that it was completely mutual.

 

“Let’s make it happen, Sherlock,” she said, quietly but confident.

 

“Which part, sweetheart?”

 

“Everything. All of them.”

 

He gasped and then kissed her. He kissed her as if his life depended on it, reminding her just how endless his love for her was. Their journey together had just begun. And at the same time it felt as if they’d been traveling together through different lifetimes. It wouldn’t be easy, it’d never been easy. It had taken both so much to realize so many things, but they had also accomplished so much together. It had also taken a lot of patience from both of them, so much patience. But it had all been worth it in the end.

“I love you, Molly,” he whispered in her ear.

 

“I know, Sherlock. I love you, too. I love you,” she whispered back.

 

And there they were. Together as one. Molly and Sherlock Holmes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi to me on tumblr: [PolinaDuntonWrites](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/polinaduntonwrites). I will be concentrating on Reylo fics in the nearest future, but if you want to chat or discuss Sherlolly or whatever, my doors are always open! :)


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